


it was you

by liebestraum



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Minor Character Death, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Smut, the 96z band!au no one asked for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-18 13:00:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 45,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21711154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liebestraum/pseuds/liebestraum
Summary: At first it was just the two of them.
Relationships: Kwon Soonyoung | Hoshi/Lee Jihoon | Woozi
Comments: 73
Kudos: 232





	1. two falling sparks / one willing fool

**Author's Note:**

> this is all over the place and i know nothing about music. i hope it's semi-coherent, though.
> 
> thank you choco&wafa for putting up with me, i love you guys.

Soonyoung can’t bear to look at the magazines. Just the thought of running his fingers through the freshly printed editions and letting his eyes wander to the gossip columns makes his stomach lurch. The day blossoms palid and quiet, and Soonyoung doesn’t move from his place, belly-down and spread eagle in bed, peering through the hair falling over his eyes. It’s London weather, as Wonwoo would say.

Junhui is the first one to talk to him.

“I’m sure it isn’t that serious,” he says during breakfast, sitting across from Soonyoung with his arms crossed.

“What isn’t?” Soonyoung throws back at him, flatly. Their hotel apartment is messier than last night and Soonyoung can see his guitar peeking from under one of Junhui’s items of clothing.

“Jihoon,” Junhui clarifies, patiently. “You guys have had multiple fallouts before. He’ll get over it.”

“He can fuck off for all I care.”

Junhui sighs like he’s tired. Soonyoung is exhausted, but he can’t allow himself the privilege to sigh. It would make things harder.

“Just make up, alright? I don’t want Seungcheol to drill my head again. You know the press.”

Soonyoung frowns. “I didn’t do anything.”

That’s a lie. He had wanted out first. He had spoken to Seungcheol first, to see what would be the best for the band. But Jihoon didn’t care about all that; he just wanted to outdo Soonyoung one last time.

“You’re both impossible,” Junhui huffs and stands up. “Egoitistical assholes, is what you are. Get a fucking grip, Kwon.”

He leaves the room and Soonyoung is left staring at the magazine on Junhui’s side of the table. He picks it up and groans. First page. Must be a slow day.

**_LEE JIHOON TO LEAVE SEVENTEEN?_ **

He sets it down again and drinks another sip from his coffee. Outside the sky is so white and foggy that Soonyoung can’t see a thing and he has truly never felt so alone in the world.

—

At first it was just the two of them.

They met through a friend of a friend at a party and Soonyoung could almost feel his own face split in half when Jihoon shook his hand. Freshman Lee Jihoon was a shy little thing right out from the outskirts of the big city, drowned in layers of knitted clothing and hunching slightly over himself. He wore a practiced scowl that slipped right off his face when he spotted the guitar perched on Soonyoung’s knees.

“You play?” Jihoon asked, genuinely curious. His glasses made his face look too small.

“A bit,” Soonyoung admitted, overly generous to himself.

“You know, I was thinking of starting a band,” his fingers curled around the neck of his bottle of beer as he took a swig. He offered it to Soonyoung then, and although Soonyoung didn’t drink he took it anyway. “Lemme play a few chords for you.”

And he was good. Really good. A small crowd gathered around them and Jihoon let his fingers lull the melody gradually into a halt, embarrassed. Soonyoung looked at him, with his curly honey hair and bulky glasses, and thought: Shit.

“I’ll join your band,” Soonyoung said when Jihoon gave him back his guitar. “You should teach me how to play like that.”

Jihoon grinned. “That’d be nice.”

That’s how it started. Soonyoung would call Jihoon’s landline more often than the other way round under the pretense of having found a striking combination or having come up with some inspired lyrics. Jihoon listened intently, offered some curt criticism and sometimes exchanged his own ideas with Soonyoung. It was all business, but Soonyoung always found himself on edge everyday waiting for the right time to call.

Whenever they met up, Jihoon would be wearing some old fashioned clothes; overly large jumpers with a shirt underneath them and his glasses that he never pushed up his nose and always stayed on the verge of slipping. Soonyoung had to resist the urge to put them back into place every time.

There was something incredibly dull about summer that year, the electric fan blowing on Soonyoung’s face and caressing his hair until he fell asleep droning out incessantly in the background of his monotonous routine. The days passed hot-white, a slight drizzle tapping at his window sometimes, ice cream tubs and bottles of water piling up on his desk as Soonyoung studied for his upcoming exams. His mom vacuuming his room at 7 a.m., his microwave beeping with the food she left him wrapped up at lunch, the news reporter’s bland voice as she talked about sports.

He called Jihoon one night. Jihoon answered only after the third try, voice low with sleep, and Soonyoung froze without much of a clue on what to say next.

“Come with me to the pool,” he said eventually.

“The pool? It must be bustling with people with this heat,” Jihoon pointed out, humming nasally as if in deep thought. “D’you know the lake by Morrison Street?”

“Yeah.”

“Must be better there.”

Soonyoung took a moment to comprehend that Jihoon was accepting his proposal of hanging out together outside the context of school and music-related practice. He didn’t know why, but his mood improved tenfold in an instant.

“Tomorrow I’ll pick you up at uni,” Soonyoung told him before Jihoon could change his mind.

“Sounds good. I’m tired of staring at the same notes. Eight?”

Soonyoung arrived at the apartment complex Jihoon’s dorm was at slightly earlier, but Jihoon was already waiting for him.

“You got a bike?” Soonyoung asked.

Jihoon shook his head and averted his gaze. “I don’t know how to ride one.”

“Really?” Soonyoung teased. “Just hop on those rear pegs and hold onto my shoulders.”

Jihoon climbed onto the bike and grabbed Soonyoung’s shoulders gently.

“You’re gonna fall off if you don’t hold on tightly.”

“Why do I have to be standing up? Can’t I just sit on the front?” Jihoon complained, but Soonyoung had already started pedalling.

Soonyoung focused on the road, the weight on his shoulders steady and shifting with each curve. The clearance was well into the forest, so Soonyoung suggested they just walk from there once they reached the end of the sideroad path. Soonyoung carried the bike as they walked, Jihoon talking scarcely and only about classes, the breeze slightly chiller than Soonyoung had expected and raising goosebumps on both of their arms.

The lake was empty, no one doing picnics or swimming around the rocks. Soonyoung figured it was due to the weather being so miserable. He should have checked the weather forecast like a sensible person. He could hear some voices coming from the clearance, but somehow they had ended up on the tail of the lake, which was so deserted it made Soonyoung’s skin crawl.

“Kind of a shitty idea in retrospect, uh?” Jihoon said, the side of his lip quirking up. “I’m not going in that freezing water.”

“Don’t be a wuss,” Soonyoung took off his shirt and kicked away his pants, his bike forgotten next to some tree. He ran to the water and jumped in without a second thought. “Shit, shit, it’s freezing,” he yelled when he came up to the surface, jumping in place to warm up.

Jihoon sat cross-legged on the grass, laughing at him. “You’re not too right in the head, are you?”

“I will drag you in if I have to,” Soonyoung threatened, his body more accustomed to the water temperature as he swam around in small circles. “You’re the one who suggested this.”

“Didn’t know it would be this cold,” Jihoon shrugged nonchalantly, looking at Soonyoung with his chin propped on his knees. “I’d like to not catch a cold right before my exams.”

Soonyoung floated up, staring at the sky silently. “You’re really tense about them, uh?”

“Well, I have to ace them to feed my ego.”

“Of course,” Soonyoung snorted. “Just don’t think about them right now.”

Jihoon kept quiet for a while. “I’m trying not to.”

Slowly he started inching closer to the lake until his toes were touching the green water. He shivered and laughed, and Soonyoung laughed along.

“C’mon, the water doesn’t bite.”

“Maybe, but you do,” Jihoon teased. He rolled up the legs of his shorts. “Okay. Just my feet.”

Jihoon dipped his legs up to his calves, kicking water at Soonyoung as he swam closer. Soonyoung wiped his face and stopped to rest next to Jihoon, resting his cheek on his arms.

“This is quite shallow,” Jihoon pointed out, removing his glasses and setting them on top of Soonyoung’s clothes that he had folded himself. “Can you reach the bottom?”

“Sure can,” Soonyoung said. “Even you wouldn’t drown here.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

Soonyoung moved to stand between Jihoon’s legs, his back against the edge of the bank. Soonyoung’s body was starting to get colder again, but Jihoon had started stroking his hair, so he didn’t move. He’d seen Jihoon being affectionate like this towards other people, but usually not him. He had brushed it off, considering the short period of time they actually knew each other for, but now he felt his skin warm up even under the freezing water and wondered what the hell was wrong with him.

“It’s so weirdly quiet here. When I came here as a kid it was usually filled with people having picnics and kids playing,” Jihoon said wistfully, digging his nails into the back of Soonyoung’s neck.

“You came here with your parents?” Soonyoung asked. Jihoon’s hand froze on his head.

“Yeah,” he answered eventually. His fingers resumed their brushing motion. “I don’t talk about that. Sorry.”

Soonyoung nodded, reaching his arms back to grab Jihoon’s wrists and pull him forward. Jihoon made a sound of protest once he realized what was happening, but it was too late. Soonyoung dragged him into the water, clothes and all. Jihoon clung tighter to Soonyoung’s neck as he swam away from the bank, cursing right next to his ear.

“Hold your breath,” Soonyoung warned before submerging them both. He came back up almost immediately, gasping under Jihoon’s chokehold. “You’re… going to choke me.”

Jihoon let go of him then, flipping his now wet hair away from his face like a damp puppy, and gave Soonyoung a pointed glare. “I fucking hate you.”

“It feels good to take a bath for once, right?”

Jihoon rose to the bait fairly quick, dunking Soonyoung’s head underwater and pushing him down. Soonyoung in turn wiggled free from Jihoon’s hold, grabbed him by the hips and threw him as far as he could, which wasn’t much. Jihoon laughed when he reemerged, swimming back to shore to get rid of his clothes before returning to Soonyoung’s side.

They remained stationary, simply talking about whatever came to mind, from the sort of people they knew in high school to the things they would do if they had all the money in the world. When they climbed out of the water with their skins all wrinkled to dry at the sun it was already warmer. Soon people would come to have their lunch by the lake and dip their feet in the cool water.

“Now I don’t have any dry clothes,” Jihoon whined, feeling up his shirt and shorts.

“You can wear mine.”

Jihoon lied down on his back next to Soonyoung. Soonyoung sniffed, the sun gentle on his cold skin, and let his arm rest on his stomach. His other arm, stretched out next to him, was nearly touching Jihoon’s, but he felt too lazy to move it.

“It’s good to speak about things sometimes, you know,” Soonyoung said. Jihoon seemed to understand, humming under his breath.

“I know,” his pinky brushed against Soonyoung’s and he looked at him. Soonyoung kept his eyes fixed on the sky. “We should get going, don’t you think?”

Soonyoung’s shirt looked several sizes too big on Jihoon since it was oversized on himself, but he liked the way the hem caressed Jihoon’s thighs and how the bright yellow complemented his hair. The damp strands clung to Jihoon’s neck, curling against his jaw and forehead. Soonyoung buckled up his shorts and sat on top of Jihoon’s still-drying clothes on the saddle.

“That was fun,” Jihoon commented as they passed the main road, his hands cold against Soonyoung’s bare shoulders. “We should do it again some time.”

Exam season was spent without a wink of sleep and Soonyoung would find himself thinking about Jihoon in ways he hadn’t thought of other men before instead of the correct answer for a certain exercise. Jihoon’s chest pressed against his back in the water, his hair slicked back from his forehead, his clavicles and the hollow of his throat glistening.

Soonyoung wrote mechanically and seldom with any confidence, but he made it through the exams with a fair amount of hopefulness. In July he called Jihoon as often as possible and they would play guitar in his bedroom with the sun against the back of their necks or go to the lake again, sometimes greeted by the sight of people already there, other times just the two of them swimming around in circles until the morning wore out. In August he visited his aunt and cousin in Hawaii and spent his days getting tan and willing Jihoon away from his head by staring at girls and drinking colorful margaritas from the pool bar.

The day he returned home he leaned his head on his mom’s shoulder as the plane whirred all around him and felt entirely removed from the world. Just another year stood between him and graduation, twenty years without nearly a single one of these thoughts, and now that adulthood and freedom were one short step away he couldn’t suppress them.

“You should loosen your fingers up more. You’re too stiff,” Jihoon said in September, sitting on Soonyoung’s bed while fiddling with Soonyoung’s guitar. “See? Like breathing.”

He exhaled and smiled. Soonyoung watched him intently, transfixed by the way Jihoon’s face moved. First the upwards tug of the lips in an almost feline grin, then the lowering of his eyebrows while his mouth parted slightly open in confusion. His eyes searched Soonyoung’s face, darting around from his eyes to his mouth, back up again.

Soonyoung kissed him. Perhaps it was a bit too rushed and rough, but Jihoon didn’t pull away immediately. Soonyoung’s cheek pressed uncomfortably against his glasses and Jihoon smelled like soap. When he moved away Jihoon wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and frowned at the floor.

“Sorry,” Soonyoung made himself say, like he knew he had to. “You just looked so serious, I couldn’t help it.”

“It’s alright,” Jihoon shrugged, refusing to look Soonyoung in the eye. “So like this, you see? You should place your hand a bit further up…”

Two days later Jihoon showed up to his doorstep and punched him square in the jaw. A deep bruise blossomed there and Jihoon popped two cubes of ice from the freezer, rolled them up in a towel and pressed it to Soonyoung’s wound. Soonyoung’s mother came back from her grocery shopping to this and immediately dropped her bags to rush to Soonyoung’s side.

“I fell,” Soonyoung said nonchalantly as she examined his face.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she shook her head and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “Thank God Jihoon was here to help you.”

Jihoon’s fingertips pressed against his jaw after they had dinner, Soonyoung’s mother humming along with the radio downstairs. They were on the same place Soonyoung had kissed him and Jihoon told him, “That was my first kiss, you asshole.”

“I don’t regret it. You should have seen your face,” Soonyoung managed to say between clenched teeth. “Ouch, stop, that hurts.”

“It’s not funny.”

The sunset’s flimsy light filtered through the sheer curtains and softened Jihoon’s features. His eyes were concerned behind those bulky glasses and Soonyoung dug his nails into his palms. Soonyoung thought - what had he thought? Jihoon was probably disgusted with him. Would he never want to speak to Soonyoung again if he knew the truth?

“Fine. I’m sorry, Jihoonie. I was just messing around with you.”

Jihoon sighed, almost silently. “You’re talented, Soonyoung, you know that? You’re a quick learner and I think you have a lot of potential,” he leaned back and slapped Soonyoung’s shoulder amicably. “Don’t ruin it.”

Soonyoung’s heart clenched painfully like a fist inside his chest for a moment and when Soonyoung exhaled it pounded against his ribcage. Jihoon didn’t seem to notice anything, but for a few seconds Soonyoung thought he wouldn’t be able to breathe again. It would become a familiar feeling down the road.

—

Junhui and Wonwoo joined them after college ended.

Soonyoung thought Jihoon had given up the whole idea of starting a band after a while, the latter often choosing to spend his days nose deep in books in the library instead of composing. Perhaps this misconception had something to do with the fact that after the whole incident Soonyoung had restrained himself from initiating contact with Jihoon in any shape or form. If Jihoon ever needed him for something he always knew where to find him.

Jihoon stopped coming over to Soonyoung’s house in favor of his own cramped dorm, always with his two roommates around, being loud and distracting. They wrote lyrics together, jotted down chords and Jihoon helped Soonyoung find his tone when he sang. Yet, in Soonyoung’s mind, this remained a purposeless hobby of Jihoon’s.

Then they graduated, Jihoon holding his _magna cum laude_ degree for a picture with a proud smile, his finalist hat lopsided on his head. Soonyoung’s Bachelor of Fine Arts was squeezed tightly in his hand as Jihoon walked up to him after Soonyoung’s mother had made a whole scene over how proud she was of her son in front of everyone.

“Congratulations,” Jihoon said, grinning widely. He had taken off his glasses for a photo and had forgotten to put them back on.

“Thanks, you too,” Soonyoung replied awkwardly. He bent down for a hug and Jihoon allowed him, patting his back twice before leaning back. “So this is it now, uh?”

Jihoon nodded, a decisive look etched on his face. “Yeah. It’s just us now.”

But it was never just them, because a month later Junhui showed up to Soonyoung’s doorstep with two drumsticks and asked if Jihoon was home.

“Jihoon doesn’t live here,” Soonyoung informed him, confused.

“Oh,” the guy looked embarrassed, standing in front of some stranger with two drumsticks in hand. His dark hair fell over his eyes as he looked down. “He told me to meet him here. I went to the audition and he said he wanted to listen to me again.”

Soonyoung tilted his head. “What audition?”

Junhui waited inside until Jihoon woke up from his middle of the day nap and barged into Soonyoung’s house wearing an oversized grey hoodie and carrying a very noticeable sleep crease on his reddened left cheek.

“Soonyoung told me you probably fell asleep, so I waited here,” Junhui explained, eyes lighting up when Jihoon appeared.

Jihoon glanced at Soonyoung. “Yeah, it happens sometimes.”

It turned out Junhui was their new drummer and that Jihoon was just looking for a bassist to finish off their assemble. Soonyoung heard Junhui play when they rolled his large drum set to Soonyoung’s garage after Soonyoung had asked his mother to park the car outside. He was passionate and his face was handsome even when he furrowed his eyebrows in concentration.

“He’s the one, isn’t he?” Jihoon asked Soonyoung as both of them sat on a pile of spare wheels, listening to the rhythmic beat.

“He’s good,” Soonyoung conceded. “So we’re still doing the band thing?”

Jihoon turned to him in a flash. Soonyoung met his eyes and it was like Junhui wasn’t playing anymore. “Of course. Do you want out or something?”

Thankfully Junhui was too focused on his rendition to notice them, because he would definitely become aware of the way Soonyoung completely deflated the minute Jihoon’s eyes turned wide and pleading and how he leaned in ever so slightly. From this close Soonyoung could see the way Jihoon’s hair spiked up slightly on the side he had been laying on in his sleep, how his sweater had a stain of toothpaste right below the collar.

“No. I was just wondering. You never said anything.”

Junhui ended his solo and Jihoon turned away from Soonyoung to clap his hands enthusiastically, laughing as Junhui ducked his head and rubbed the back of his neck. Soonyoung clapped too, just to follow suit, and Junhui got accepted into their project.

After that, every time Soonyoung met Jihoon Junhui was there. Gone were the days of his two roommates drunkenly impersonating Prince, but now Soonyoung was always relegated to sitting by Junhui’s side instead of Jihoon’s, to perfect his guitar skills by himself because Jihoon was too busy guiding Junhui on the drums.

Junhui was nice, maybe too nice for his own good, and whenever he tied his shoulder-length hair back in a bun Soonyoung got a little starstruck. Junhui had the mysterious eyes of a rockstar and the bone structure of a greek god, but even though he slung an arm over Soonyoung’s shoulder or laughed right in his ear, Soonyoung was always focused on Jihoon being quiet, tidying up their music sheets on his lap or humming something under his breath.

Wonwoo was the bassist Jihoon chose. At first Soonyoung thought he was even more introverted than Jihoon, yet after only a few weeks Wonwoo’s shell cracked open and they found out he fit into their group like a glove, like a puzzle piece slotted into the right place to complete the picture. Soonyoung got along with Wonwoo the easiest, since in spite of his quietness he was the one who rose to the bait of Soonyoung’s teasing the most, retaliating in similar fashion until their playful bickering led Jihoon to almost snap at them during a practice session one day.

(Soonyoung liked to conjure up a lot of meanings to that reaction to this day.)

It was easier after the first few weeks. They found a good balance between all of them, whether it be their playing sound or their clashing personalities. The rehearsals became filled with laughter and instruments trying to overpower each other dramatically, to the point one of Soonyoung’s neighbours had threatened to call the cops on them.

After the New Year, Jihoon showed up with three CDs in his hands. He had spent all of December cooped up in his tiny studio without anything that could be deemed a piece of furniture and Soonyoung had worried himself sick even though Jihoon had told him not to bother him over the phone. Jihoon gave each one of them a CD at the diner they usually met up in, smiling in spite of the dark eyebags hidden under the rims of his glasses.

“These are some demos I came up with. I don’t know if they’re any good,” Jihoon said, slurping his strawberry milkshake and dipping another fry in ketchup. “But we should start practicing at least four songs. I got us a spot at a music bar in March.”

“What is this?” Wonwoo asked, pointing to the scribbled “SEVENTEEN” in permanent black marker over the disk.

“Oh, it was just something to identify them. I got up to seventeen songs, so…” Jihoon trailed off.

“That could be our band name,” Junhui suggested, half-joking. “Seventeen. Boy band of the century.”

Soonyoung ran his thumb over Jihoon’s handwriting, slanted and slightly disjointed. Under the table his feet bumped against someone’s leg but he didn’t bother to look up and see whose.

“Sounds young and fresh,” Wonwoo joked and went back to demolishing his burger.

The name stuck at least for the two months they practiced the songs they liked best from Jihoon’s self-made album. It was hard to choose just four from the ones they had been presented, but they decided they should opt for songs from different genres and go from there. Soonyoung would go upstairs to his room after everyone left, place the CD on his record player and listen to Jihoon’s shy voice murmur the lyrics until it filled up the whole room.

“ _Just tell me, tell me what you want, what you need, you know I can’t give you that_ ,” Jihoon sung gently, distorted by the quality of his mic and the emotion in his voice. Soonyoung buried his head in his arms and thought about falling asleep, about the band, about Jihoon. In the end, he stayed up until 4 am, writing whatever he felt like and ripping it up into tiny pieces right afterwards because most of it just confirmed his suspicions that he had let himself completely fall in love with Lee Jihoon.

—

In February they participated in a jam session at the bar Jihoon had gotten them a spot in and after they finished Jihoon made a dash to the bathroom to throw up. It turned out to be a mere cold but Jihoon cried for hours over his voice having cracked over and over again and Wonwoo simply ran his fingers through Jihoon’s hair to calm him down.

“It doesn’t matter,” Wonwoo assured him. “It isn’t your fault you got sick.”

Jihoon only fell asleep after eating some chicken soup Soonyoung had bought and that Wonwoo had spoon-fed him through protesting whines. Soonyoung had never seen Jihoon so weak and vulnerable before, allowing Wonwoo to take care of him and Junhui and Soonyoung to loiter around his house looking worried.

“I’ll stay with him,” Soonyoung told Junhui and Wonwoo when they announced they were leaving. They had jobs unlike Soonyoung and needed to be up first thing in the morning, so volunteering to do it seemed like the most logical thing.

Jihoon’s studio was cramped and his bed was just a mattress pumped up with air. Soonyoung wanted to bring him to his house so his mom could make Jihoon soup that didn’t taste artificial and bland and Jihoon could sleep without having a crick in his neck when he woke up. He was so scared Junhui and Wonwoo would notice, though, that he didn't even dare to ask. The thought seemed ridiculous in retrospective, but at the time it had Soonyoung’s stomach in knots. 

Jihoon woke up in the middle of the night, a quarter to three on Soonyoung’s watch, to Soonyoung doing crossword puzzles on top of his legs, his back pressed to Jihoon’s mattress. Soonyoung’s sleep schedule had been so tampered with lately that he couldn’t really get it back to normal no matter how hard he tried.

“Soon…” Jihoon whispered, turning to his side. “What are you doing here?”

“Making sure you don’t die on me,” Soonyoung said, putting the crosswords and pen aside to kneel next to Jihoon. “Wonwoo and Junhui have to wake up early, so I stayed.”

“You lazy ass,” Jihoon smiled feebly and Soonyoung’s stomach churned slightly. “You should get a job.”

“Wow, not cool, dude. You know I’m looking. And you don’t have one either,” Soonyoung jabbed back. “We’re on the same boat here.”

“The band is my job,” Jihoon said, eyebrows slightly pinched. “I know… I know this might be just a joke for you, but if we fail I won’t know what to do with myself.”

Soonyoung’s hand ran through Jihoon’s tangle of curly hair in a way Jihoon would probably never have allowed him if he was completely lucid. “Hey, where did you get that idea from? I want this as much as you do.”

Jihoon searched Soonyoung’s face with his half-lidded eyes before closing them again. His sheets were soaked from having sweated out his fever, but Jihoon didn’t kick them away since he was still shivering.

“I know, Soonyoung. I’m so glad-” he stopped himself to wheeze out a dry cough. “I’m so happy I have you.”

And just like that he fell asleep again. Soonyoung let out the air he had been forcing down and turned around again so that he wouldn’t stare at Jihoon while he was sleeping. So he wouldn’t make things difficult.

Seeing the bar again on the night of their concert made Soonyoung uneasy for some reason. The heat was oppressive after they had almost frozen to death waiting outside and the place was bursting at the seams. Junhui asked Jihoon how he managed to get a gig in such a place and got a sly grin in response. It all sat quite wrong with Soonyoung.

They were squeezed between two acts with some recognition in the underground scene, so Soonyoung’s palms were already sweating as they started out with a soul cover of _Angel Baby_. The crowd warmed up as it usually did to familiar tunes and Jihoon sang it all perfectly, lips glued to the mic as he moved his mouth around the words.

Soonyoung focused on his hands and his guitar, looking down for most of the performance. The crowd seemed to enjoy their songs, even playfully waving some lit up lighters when they played a slow ballad. It felt… genuinely amazing. Like Soonyoung's blood was everywhere, thrumming, burning the pads of his fingers. His heart quivered with uncertainty.

And then Jihoon turned around as Junhui wrapped their whole stage up with the last drum rolls and smiled straight at Soonyoung, eyes scrunched up and shining from where the light was hitting them without his glasses, and time seemed to drag on just for the two of them. Soonyoung found it in himself to force a smile back, on edge even though his chest felt light and his sweat reinvigorating.

“That was insane,” Wonwoo announced in almost disbelief backstage. “I want to do it again.”

“I’ll make sure we do,” Jihoon assured him, his face still radiating the pure joy of a child getting their first toy. “Just trust me.”

And he did. They became a consistent act and people came over just to listen to them. Soonyoung could see them talking to friends and family members they had dragged along, those faces that became familiar and a kind sight when he was feeling down. He wished his mother wasn't working all the time so she could come and see him, too.

“Look at us,” Junhui said as they sat down on the edge of the stage, resting after everyone but the bar employees had left. “We’re making people happy.”

“Quit being a big sap,” Jihoon teased, popping open one of the top buttons of his shirt. Wonwoo pressed the side of a beer can to his own neck. It was always so hot in there. “I always knew we were gonna make it.”

“Calm down, big-head, not yet,” Wonwoo reminded. “We can’t get too far ahead of ourselves.”

Junhui kicked one of his dangling feet. “You must be fun at parties.”

Wonwoo huffed and kicked back. “I most certainly am. I’m just saying we need to record an album before we say those sorts of things. I’m still broke as fuck. I need physical evidence of our accomplishments.”

“Like our own baby,” Soonyoung concluded and Jihoon threw his head back laughing.

Soonyoung tried to remember moments like that, when they were still a small underground band with big dreams and easy smiles. Jihoon would drive Wonwoo’s borrowed truck and almost send them crashing into countless lampposts and Junhui would laugh and ask if he really had a driver's license to which Jihoon usually flipped him off.

Soonyoung didn’t remember much of himself during those times, just Wonwoo gripping the door handle with too much strength, Junhui smelling of cigarettes next to him and the clanking of their instruments in the trunk. However, even those moments gradually faded into the background of his memories, replaced by a nitid image of Jihoon in his early twenties with his foggy glasses and scarlet cheeks, slim right hand maneuvering the gear shift, strands of hair curling around his ears, his side profile guarded and attentive. Drop to third gear and a vein ran down the back of his hand. Soonyoung swallowed.

Don’t ruin it, he could hear Jihoon warn him just a couple of years back, voice a pitch higher and hair a tad longer. Soonyoung leaned back, hummed the first verses of _Wouldn’t It Be Nice_ and closed his eyes as the rest of the car joined him.

—

It didn’t hit him until he held the CD in his hands. It wasn’t a blank one anymore, but covered in a light beige layer with uncolored flowers blooming from the centre. Soonyoung put it back inside the case, assessing the cover. It was the same color as the CD and featured the face of an anonymous dark-haired boy with roses blooming from his eyes, dark red streaks of ink mimicking tears on his face.

“Minghao painted that for us,” Junhui pointed at the cover proudly. “Isn’t it amazing?”

“It’s beautiful,” Jihoon said, honestly. “This is more than I could have ever imagined.”

But then maybe it didn’t hit him until one of their songs played in some indie radio station when he was driving home or until they were performing outside of _Moonwalker_ , on an outdoor stage for lesser known bands at a music festival, with people singing along with them. It all happened so fast Soonyoung could barely believe it.

When he finally came to, they were being reviewed by _Rolling Stone_ magazine and interviewed on national TV, the prospect of a tour looming over them, an endless string of makeup artists and stylists and contracts which ended with Seungcheol introducing himself as their new manager. Inevitably, Soonyoung also started to focus on the negativity, the comments calling them a shallow one-hit-wonder, untalented pretty boys, a hype that would soon flicker out.

When he finally came to, it was too late to get out. He had to leave his mother’s house and replace it with hotel rooms and tour buses, both usually cheap and smelling of mold. All four of them agreed to do rock-paper-scissors for their roommate arrangements each time they got to a new city and Soonyoung tried hard not to wish for Jihoon to room with him.

Sometimes it still happened, though. Jihoon always stayed up late writing God knows what on his dog-eared notebook— that now almost looked like a travel journal from all the papers Jihoon jammed inside it— while Soonyoung turned to face the wall, always too aware of Jihoon’s presence in the room. Most times he would pretend to fall asleep until he actually did, listening to the scratching of pen on paper and Jihoon’s occasional sigh. They never talked unless it was absolutely necessary. It was awkward and it didn’t take long for Wonwoo and Junhui to notice it.

“Did something happen between you two?” Wonwoo asked when he roomed with Soonyoung in Manchester. He was currently polishing his shoes and Soonyoung noticed it was more out of habit than to truly clean them. “You’ve known each other since college, right?”

“Yeah,” Soonyoung scratched the top of his belly over his shirt, staring at the broken ceiling fan. “We were never really friends, though.”

“Oh?” Wonwoo sounded genuinely surprised. “Why not?”

“We were always more like business partners,” Soonyoung shrugged. It was always so much easier to refer to their relationship as distant than to actually label it.

Wonwoo put his shoes down on the floor and slipped them on. “I see.”

“You’re going somewhere?”

“Yeah,” Wonwoo answered, standing up. “Got a hot date tonight. Also you seem like you need some alone time.”

Soonyoung hummed. “Have fun, loverboy.”

“Just use the fucking shower, Kwon.”

Soonyoung laughed, his hand rubbing circles under his shirt after Wonwoo locked the room and left. He was just about to let it slip under his boxer briefs when a knock on the door interrupted him. Soonyoung clicked his tongue in annoyance and stood up to answer it. Jihoon was on the other side.

“Can I come in?” He asked. He was wearing his glasses, even though these days he had taken a liking to using the contact lenses Seungcheol had offered him for his birthday.

“Sure.”

Soonyoung had to take deep breaths as he closed the door, his heart racing as if he had been caught doing something wrong. However, Jihoon couldn’t possibly know Soonyoung had been about to jerk off thinking about him, so Soonyoung wasn’t sure why he couldn’t calm himself down.

Jihoon sat down on Wonwoo’s bed and went straight to the point. “I saw Wonwoo leaving and I figured you were alone. I want you to hear something. No guitar. Just me.”

“Okay,” Soonyoung nodded, opting to sit on his own bed. Jihoon raised an eyebrow, probably at Soonyoung’s one-word answers instead of his usually chattiness.

Jihoon tapped his thigh for a rhythm and sang a slow love song, his voice going from its usual low raspiness to a sweet high-pitch. Soonyoung listened, enraptured, attempting to focus on the words and not on his frantic heartbeat or how Jihoon was dressed like he used to in college, his glasses slipping to the tip of his nose.

“ _I want to spend my life happy with you_ ,” Jihoon sang, this time opening his eyes and directing his gaze at Soonyoung. “ _Oh, but my dear that won’t do_.”

Soonyoung’s throat was dry as Jihoon finished the song, humming the ending tune. Jihoon broke eye contact as if woken from a stupor, licking his lips nervously. The silence that settled between them in that humid hotel room seemed almost sacred for a moment, as if whoever broke it were to tip the scale and return things to the mundane spectrum of life.

“What do you think?” Jihoon spoke first, timidly.

“Wait,” Soonyoung got up, got his spare guitar from under his bed. “Sing the chorus again.”

Jihoon did and Soonyoung’s fingers moved of their own accord, up and down the neck and fiddling four chords on the strings. Jihoon stopped singing.

“That sounds fantastic. Do you think you can write that down so we can transcribe it to piano?”

They released _It Was You_ as a single and by next month it was topping all national charts and even sneaking its way through international ones. The first time they got an actual written check in their hands with more zeros on the right than on the left Junhui burst into tears and hugged Soonyoung so tightly he could barely breathe.

“This is it. We’ve made it now,” Wonwoo twirled around the studio, holding the check like it was baby Simba. “I love you guys.”

Jihoon grabbed Soonyoung’s wrist, tugged at it and let him go with a tiny smile. That’s when it hit Soonyoung that there was no going back.

—

“I like you.”

Soonyoung felt a familiar twist in his stomach. It wasn’t the first time someone said that to him after he had brought them to an high-end motel to have sex. Sometimes he even kept in touch, anything to fill up the loneliness eating away at him.

“I’m sorry,” he told the blonde girl draped completely naked over the bed, lifting himself up. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Protected under the signatures of secrecy contracts, Soonyoung felt safe saying those words over and over again. He had already earned himself the title of “player” of the group and he didn’t need any more gossiping in his ears.

“Oh, so you’re one of those,” she said dryly, covering herself up with the sheets. “One of those people who never fall in love with anyone. Sex, drugs and rock and roll, right?”

Soonyoung had met Jihoon earlier that day and they had argued again over something as petty as the right way to cut an avocado while they were preparing the picnic for Junhui’s birthday the next day. Jihoon had apologized saying he was just so tired and when they had finished up cooking they curled up on the sofa to watch old reruns and wait for the cake to be ready to pop out of the oven. It had felt like the days before they were famous, but then again nothing like that at all.

“What do you know?” Soonyoung mumbled, grabbing his clothes from the floor. “You’re just the same as me, aren’t you? What’s there to like about a guy you barely know? His fame? His money?”

“Fuck off,” she gritted through her teeth as she slipped on her dress and made her way to the door. “If you think that’s the only reason someone would like you maybe it’s because that’s all there is to like.”

Soonyoung slept for a couple of hours after she left and loitered around the room until around midday, which was undoubtedly a stupid decision. Paparazzi could be anywhere at that time of day, but he found that he couldn't bring himself to care much,.

“Do you think I’m unlikable?” He asked Junhui while Jihoon and Wonwoo fumbled with Junhui’s grill to start the barbecue.

Junhui sighed. “Why do you insist on hanging out with those dubious people you meet at nightclubs, Soonyoung? It’s like you become more miserable each time you have sex,” Soonyoung remained silent, so he proceeded. “No, you’re not unlikable. We all like you very much.”

“Not Jihoon.”

“Ah, is that what this is about?” Junhui sneaked a glance at Jihoon, placing the beef on the griller with the tweezers and explaining to Wonwoo when he should turn them. “Jihoon is… difficult. I think he expresses his affection in more subtle ways.”

“He must be the master of subtlety, then,” Soonyoung complained and Junhui patted his shoulder, chuckling.

“Funny how you two work so well together onstage. I’m pretty sure everyone believes you guys have friendship bracelets at this point,” Junhui pointed out.

“That’s different,” Soonyoung said, and it was.

During performances, even when they had to share a mic or harmonize, Soonyoung never truly felt like himself. Up there, Jihoon was singing for him and Soonyoung was just singing back, an echo that blended with the background vocals. On the second album Jihoon allowed him to sing most parts of some songs and then the roles were reversed, and words of love came so easy to Soonyoung’s tongue it almost felt like his mouth tasted of honey by the end of the performance.

Once they stepped off though, Jihoon would always refuse to meet Soonyoung’s eyes, even when Soonyoung directly addressed him. Soonyoung never questioned it, not even when Jihoon elbowed his stomach playfully every time Soonyoung got him in a headlock or when Jihoon pushed his face away whenever Soonyoung got too close to him. It was always like that between them, that push and pull that once the lights had faded and everyone had left would turn into a deep silence to which Soonyoung had no answers to.

The barbecue was just the four of them, no managers or friends or girlfriends, just them as per Junhui’s request. The ribs Wonwoo grilled were succulent and the beer was fresh, the array of appetizers splayed out on the table making Soonyoung’s chest swell with pride. It was the perfect picket fence picture, four young men talking and laughing over food and cigarettes without a single care in the world.

“Happy birthday,” Jihoon yelled, coming from the kitchen to the patio with the cake him and Soonyoung had prepared, candles already lit. “We love you, Jun!”

“Looks like I already got you beat,” Junhui whispered in Soonyoung’s ear when the latter passed him a piece of the cake, and if some of it had found its way onto Junhui’s clothes it was most definitely an accident on Soonyoung’s part.

—

Soonyoung grew up squeezed between his mother and his grandmother at the bright hours of the morning when the light was so white and dense Soonyoung saw everything through a blurred sheen: statues of angels and saints shifting into white-purple-green sunday dresses shifting into golden indentions running across the arches and the cabinets which held the goblet with bread and wine. Soonyoung used to wipe his sweaty palms on his boyish shorts, feet still not reaching the wooden floor, and marveled at the smell of sawdust, of damp plaster and rusty iron.

The interview sofa was just as uncomfortable as the church pews had been back then, creaking when they all sat down, Soonyoung squeezed between Wonwoo and Jihoon. There was a solemnity about the whole situation that reminded Soonyoung of those days—the sun filtering past stained-glass and bursting into a myriad of colors replaced by the artificial lighting of the studio that made them all look just a little paler and washed-out. Jihoon looked beautiful for these interviews, the stylists insisting on him wearing his glasses just for the occasion - not the bulky ones from college, but thin silver-framed ones - and changing his usual leather jacket and skinny jeans combo into a plain shirt with the sleeves rolled up and black linen pants.

Jihoon was always instructed to lead the interviews for them and he excelled at it, cold-headedly commanding the situation and steering the conversation wherever he wanted it to go. Soonyoung listened to him speak like he used to listen to the old priest from his local church ramble about heaven and hell, edging on the verge of awe and fear. This time, however, he kept his expression concealed behind a tight smile that didn’t let any wonderment slip past him as Jihoon crossed his legs, rubbed his jaw pensively, scratched the back of his ear, leaned over the armrest towards the interviewer with a full-toothed grin.

“I’m probably going to break a lot of hearts here, but obviously you’ve all probably had your past loves,” she said, moving her hands exaggeratedly. “So I was wondering what your first kisses were like.”

Junhui burst into laughter. “Oh, mine was terrible, no one wants to hear that.”

“I’m absolutely sure they do,” she refuted. “Let’s start here. Jihoon?”

Jihoon’s shoulders hunched like he did whenever he was nervous about something, arm wrapping around his stomach as if protecting himself from an upcoming blow.

“You know, pretty standard. One of those little pecks during truth or dare around seventh grade. Nothing really special about it,” he was facing away from Soonyoung, but he could see the tense line of Jihoon’s back stretching over his shirt.

The interviewer looked at him with suspicion, but let it go eventually. “That’s no fun. What about you, Soonyoung? You’re the one I’m sure people are most curious about.”

“I don’t see why that is,” he said awkwardly.

“Don’t act all coy with me. Who was she?”

Jihoon’s thigh pressed against his for a moment, then shifted. He smelled of soap and powder.

“Well, it was someone I met in college,” the interviewer ooh’d excitedly. “We kissed in my bedroom, but I don’t think she liked it much.”

“College? Are you sure that was your first?” She asked slyly.

Soonyoung’s ribs constricted around his heart. “It sure felt like it.”

Jihoon didn’t talk to him for the remainder of the week. Soon enough word spread on who the mystery girl might be, with people Soonyoung didn’t even know coming forward as his college sweetheart. He tried to ignore it for the most part.

Soonyoung visited his mother when they got a few days off, laid his head on her thighs as they watched a TV show quiz. She stroked his hair away from his face and caressed his scalp with her manicured nails. Soonyoung was so glad he could afford enough for them now, that his mother didn’t have to work graveyard shifts anymore.

“I saw your interview,” she said, rubbing his ear between her fingers.

“You don’t come to my concerts, but you watch that crap?” Soonyoung teased.

“You know I hate flying. I already try to go whenever you’re near here,” she whined, tapping his forehead slightly. “I want to talk to you about the kiss.”

“The kiss?” Soonyoung pretended he didn’t know what she was talking about.

“I know you, Kwon Soonyoung. I know you know exactly what I'm talking about.”

Soonyoung lifted himself up from her lap and sat down. “That’s a lot of knows.”

“I don’t remember you having anyone over during college, especially not a girlfriend. Were you doing this behind my back?” She frowned, yet her tone was lighthearted.

“No,” Soonyoung shook his head. “I-“

“Was it not a girlfriend?”

Soonyoung balled up his fists on top of his lap. “I guess you could say so.”

“Soonyoung…” she sounded gentle now, like she did when she was about to press a ball of cotton dampened with alcohol to a burning wound. “Was it Jihoonie?”

Soonyoung hadn’t even noticed he had started crying before she even finished the question. He opened his fists, and his hands, quivering where the tears landed dully, were soon enveloped in his mother’s smaller but firmer hands before she pulled him in for a hug.

“It’s okay. Shh, I know, sweetheart. I’ve known for a long time.”

He didn’t reply, simply burying his face in the crook of her neck and bawling his eyes out until his whole body hurt, as if his brain was having difficulty localizing where all the searing pain was coming from and sending frenzied signals to every nerve in him. His mother held him there, rocking back and forth ever so slightly, a hypnotizing lull that made Soonyoung almost think he remembered her holding him when he couldn’t even walk, singing him to sleep.

After his lungs began to fill up again he pulled back, wiping his tears with the back of his hand and then his hand on his jeans. His mother looked at him with a worried line between her thin eyebrows, but didn’t say anything.

“I’m sorry, mom, I’m- I’m disgusting,” Soonyoung could barely keep himself from stuttering. “I’m disgusting and, and I should have never joined this band-“

“Hey, no, no,” his mother caressed his still wet cheek, thumb moving up and down comfortingly. “Don’t say that. You’re perfect just the way you are, Soonyoung.”

“He’s been ignoring me since that interview. He doesn’t- He’s probably going to get me kicked out now because I couldn’t keep my stupid mouth shut.”

“You’re not giving Jihoonie a lot of credit,” she smiled and put her hand over Soonyoung’s. “He cares so much about you. He told me you hadn’t fell down that day, you know? He could have kept quiet, but he didn't, and he looked so concerned. He loves you, Soonyoung.”

“Not in the same way I do,” Soonyoung smiled back, but it was faint and almost sarcastic. “And we aren’t eighteen anymore.”

Her eyes became softer. “Maybe not. We can’t please everyone we fancy. Sometimes we have to move on.”

Soonyoung exhaled and it ached so much he started to wonder whether his lungs were bruised. “I know, mom. I know,” then he rested his head on her shoulder. “I love you. Thank you.”

Jihoon was still quiet when they all met up again in Singapore, opening up a book and burying his nose in it whenever Soonyoung came in their shared room. Soonyoung was always too exhausted to talk, so he turned on TV and searched for some movie that had already been on a hundred times before leaning back on his bed and taking a nap.

When he woke up Jihoon was humming something.

“ _That it was you… you in the brightest days, and you in the darkest nights…_ ”

The heat was even more unbearable in Singapore in the winter than Manchester could ever be in the summer, but it brought Soonyoung back to that day when they’d been up all night in the studio perfecting the harmony and mixing it until Jihoon had turned to him with bright eyes and Soonyoung had understood exactly what he meant.

Now Soonyoung realized that if Jihoon were to look over he would see the adoration plastered on Soonyoung’s face as he heard him whisper-sing, the ever so slight raise of the eyebrows, the gentleness of the eyes, his lips parted in muted wonder. Yet when Jihoon actually did look over, Soonyoung didn’t try to conceal it.

“Jun said the rehearsal was pushed back,” Jihoon said, setting down his notebook on their shared bedside table (littered with pills and water bottles and tissues) and running a hand over his face.

“Were you writing?”

Jihoon shook his head. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” Soonyoung asked, tucking his arm under his head.

“It’s too hot,” Jihoon replied, shrugging noncommittally.

It was hot, the kind of hot that warped your vision until solid surfaces seemed to be melting into each other. Sweat glistened on Jihoon’s neck like a new layer of skin, resembling the sheen of satin sheets in the buttery light of the afternoon, and Soonyoung could feel his own shirt clinging to his back, the fabric sticking and unsticking in the damp spots of his torso.

“You want help?” Soonyoung offered.

“Unless you’re the heat-whisperer I think I’m gonna pass,” Jihoon slipped down to lie on his back and then turned his back to Soonyoung.

“What, you can give me pity lines in your songs, but won’t let me write anything?” Soonyoung felt his anger rise up to his chest, making his breathing even more uneven. “You’re too good to let any of us do anything but be your backdrop instruments?”

“What the hell is your problem?” Jihoon spat out, turning around and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed to sit down. “You must be mistaking me for your therapist if you think I have the patience to endure your insecure whining, Kwon.”

Soonyoung took a deep breath, felt the humidity press warmly against his lungs and the sting of tears in the corner of his eyes. He sat up as well, but instead of staying to face Jihoon he simply stood up and walked to the minibar to grab himself a fresh beer.

“You drink now?” Jihoon inquired, disapproval almost palpable in his tone.

“You smoke now?” Soonyoung threw back, cold.

Jihoon seemed taken aback by this. “We all smoke,” he said.

“Not like you,” Soonyoung mumbled, as if Jihoon wasn’t supposed to hear the fit of rage rumbling in his chest. “One thing is having one when we’re hanging out. Then there’s you, with your packs a day. You think I don’t see them, Jihoon?”

“You went through my stuff?” Jihoon’s voice rose at this and Soonyoung flinched. Jihoon rarely raised his voice. “What the fuck?”

“I didn’t. You leave them lying around I’m bound to find one or two, don’t you think?” Soonyoung took a swig of his beer and it counterintuitively sobered him up a little from how fresh it felt against his dry throat. “You’re hurting your health.”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do!” Jihoon bolted to his feet at this and walked over to Soonyoung decisively. “You think, what, that you own me because you have a stupid college crush on me?”

Soonyoung felt his bowels turn to liquid, the beer settling all wrong on his stomach and making him feel sick. A quick answer formed on his tongue, some form of ‘What are you talking about?’ or ‘You wish’ or even ‘Yeah, I have a crush on you, so what?’, but he didn’t say any of it. Instead he kept quiet, let his tongue sit heavily in his mouth as Jihoon’s wide, furious eyes turned to normal and his shoulders and chest stopped heaving.

“I didn’t mean that,” Jihoon said. “It was- I didn’t mean it.”

“Which part?” Soonyoung asked sarcastically.

“All of it. But you’re right. I should quit smoking.”

Soonyoung stretched his arm in front of Jihoon, tipping the beer towards him. Jihoon took it and drank without a second thought.

“I do, you know. Have a crush on you,” Soonyoung said before he could cower.

Jihoon choked, pulling the bottle away to cough. He wheezed and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before squinting at Soonyoung like he was offering Jihoon a riddle that was too hard to solve.

“I thought you knew,” Soonyoung clarified.

“I mean, I had a hunch, but I never thought you’d be so blunt about it,” Jihoon said, scratching the side of his neck with too much vehemence. “Jesus Christ.”

Soonyoung’s cheeks were burning and he could feel his stomach bundling up into tiny knots. “Do you hate me?”

“Don’t be stupid. I’d never hate you over something like that,” Jihoon scoffed and Soonyoung could hear his mother in his head, pointing out how right she was, like she always did. “But you just can’t go around saying shit like that.”

“Don’t worry,” Soonyoung shrugged. “I’m not going to confess my undying love for you in the middle of a packed mall. I was only messing with you in that interview.”

“Ah. Ah. Very funny,” Jihoon said bitterly. “I really don’t care about it, okay? As long as it doesn’t affect your performance.”

“Oh, my performance is great, thank you very much,” Soonyoung said, resisting the urge to wink and then to cringe at himself.

“Shut up, Soonyoung,” Jihoon twisted his nose, but the corner of his lip lifted up in amusement. “You’re such an asshole when you want to be.”

Soonyoung’s shoulders slumped, relaxed. “Am I?” He questioned, reaching for the beer bottle and, once he grew bolder, allowing his fingers to brush against Jihoon’s before moving them up to cover Jihoon’s cold hand. “Why? Do you not like this, Jihoonie?”

Jihoon tensed, eyes flickering from their hands to Soonyoung’s face. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?” Soonyoung asked, feigning innocence by widening his eyes.

“Touching me. Calling me that,” Jihoon said, but his words carried no bite in them. “You’re impossible. You’re only going to make things worse.”

Jihoon remained perfectly still even as the condensation dripped between their fingers. Soonyoung wondered if he was pushing his luck, if tomorrow he’d wake up with another part of Jihoon gone from him, but he had to know. He pulled the bottle from Jihoon’s hand and set it aside on the table, startling Jihoon who was staring at him with puzzlement in his eyes.

“You keep saying that. What does that even mean?

“It means exactly that. You’re only complicating what’s easy,” Jihoon said. “Listen to me, when I started this band I did so with you. You agreed to doing this, you were the one who asked me for guitar lessons. If it was some stupid crush you should have left it there. Because it doesn’t justify going halfway around the world to do something you don’t enjoy.”

Soonyoung shook his head. “I love music. That’s not the point. You were the one who made me fall in love with it in the first place.”

“That’s precisely what I’m saying! You wouldn’t have done this for me. You did it because this is your calling, something stronger than you, what you need to do,” Jihoon crossed and then uncrossed his arms, unsure of where to look at. “And what you need is always more important than what you want.”

Soonyoung felt queasy, and although Jihoon’s words had all seemed right and true he simply wasn’t able to wrap his head around them. Sooyoung sat down on the edge of the bed, staring at his own hands as he tangled them, and in turn Jihoon stared blankly at him without saying a thing.

“So what you’re saying is that I need to figure out my priorities,” Soonyoung chanced.

“We’re more than ourselves now, Soonyoung. We’re part of a group and of a whole community of people who support us. I need you to think about that,” Jihoon explained, verging on exasperation. “This isn’t about you kissing me because you think it’s fun or believe you have feelings for me. It’s not just us now. It’s Wonwoo and Junhui, and our fans, and Seungcheol, and the press. This is a choice you made that you can’t go back on.”

Soonyoung tilted his head up, a weak smile on his lips. “Does that mean you’d have said yes in college?” He asked, half-joking, half-hopeful.

Jihoon leaned back on the table, dragging his foot back and forward on the carpet. His expression mirrored Soonyoung’s and he couldn’t help but wonder if he looked just as pathetic. “You were the one with the choice, Soonyoung. I only ever had this.”

Soonyoung wanted to mention the fact that Jihoon had never really rejected him, had never said to his face I don’t love you, yet the more Soonyoung thought about it the more he felt his heart getting torn into pieces. Emotions were a lot more complicated that Jihoon made them seem like.

“You should still let me write my lyrics,” Soonyoung’s gaze dropped to Jihoon’s lips fleetingly - had they ever been this pink? - and moved back up before Jihoon noticed. “Then pretend they’re about you.”

“I fucking hate you,” Jihoon hissed and this time he turned away. He got flustered, Soonyoung noticed. “Fine. Do whatever you want. I’ll give them a read.”

“Okay,” Soonyoung said with a pleased smirk. “Will do, captain.”

“Just one thing.”

Soonyoung tilted his head. “What?”

“Don’t... tell anyone. You could hurt yourself,” Jihoon said, moving back to his bed and taking the beer with him, placing it on the already cramped table.

“Why would I? It would ruin my goody-two-shoes image, wouldn’t it?” Soonyoung quipped, yet Jihoon only sighed in response. “Don’t worry. I won’t say anything,” then, after a beat, “it doesn’t matter anyway.”

Jihoon hummed. “Good. Goodnight, Soonyoung.”

—

After they started getting their own individual hotel rooms, Soonyoung and Jihoon began to see each other less and less often. Sometimes Soonyoung remembered how Jihoon had reddened after Soonyoung had touched him and how he hadn’t tried to kick him or twist his arm. Of how absolutely still he got.

Their last stop for the US tour was LA. Soonyoung wanted to go back to his mother and hide his face in her lap while she stroked his head. He was tired of planes and screeching fans and harsh lights. He wanted to rest.

He closed the book he was reading and sunk his head on the two pillows he had stacked to try and fall asleep. That’s when he heard it - through the thick quiet of his room a semblance of muffled bed creaking and moaning coming from the room next to him. From Jihoon’s room.

He felt wrong doing it, but he stood up nonetheless and leaned closer to the wall until his ear was nearly pressed flush against it. Voices became clear then and Soonyoung could barely process them at first, too stunned to even formulate a thought in his head.

“You’re always so great,” a voice that definitely didn’t belong to Jihoon spoke up. “Fuck, do that again.”

Soonyoung moved away. It wasn’t any of his business what Jihoon was doing. But that voice, it sounded so familiar. He moved back in.

“Stop it, you’re going to leave marks,” and now that was certainly Jihoon’s voice, although perhaps rougher and breathier, like he had just finished a performance.

Soonyoung sighed, pressing his palms and forehead to the hard surface. Ah, he thought. Someone could have Jihoon after all. And that someone was a man. And that someone wasn’t him.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Soonyoung whispered to no one in particular.

Groans and grunts filled up Soonyoung’s night seemingly forever. The bed thumped against the wall and Soonyoung felt it shake. He grabbed a handful of the sheets in his fist, then unclenched his hand, running it over his face instead. What expression was Jihoon making right now? Was he flushed deep pink right down to his chest like when he was tipsy? Did his mouth open before he bit down on his reddened lip to be more quiet? Did the other guy hold him down or was it the other way around?

Soonyoung’s heart hammered in his chest. His stomach rumbled and his headache worsened significantly, so he took some painkillers to ease it. He closed his eyes to fall asleep, but his ears were filled with Jihoon’s ragged breathing and the other guy’s sweet voice, warm as blood dripping down a blade.

He woke up with a jolt, nearly startling himself out of bed. He took a deep breath and buried his face in his hands, repeating the same inhale and exhale exercises his vocal coach had taught him. He felt as if he had a knife lodged in his ribs, so he straightened his back and pressed down on his stomach. He reached for the pills again.

Breakfast was hazy. Wonwoo had visited him at a quarter to ten and had shoved a chocolate milk carton and crackers under his nose, wondering where the hell Soonyoung had been when they had all agreed to meet up and eat in Junhui’s room.

“Jihoon didn’t show up either,” Wonwoo huffed. “It was like i was on a date with Jun, except worse, because I only got stuck with the boring half of it.”

“Gross,” Soonyoung managed to say, albeit weakly. “I wasn’t very hungry, anyway.”

“That’s the most bullshit excuse you’ve ever given me,” Wonwoo said, chuckling. “You? Not hungry? Impossible.”

“You’re right,” Soonyoung caved in. “I just got lazy. Don’t mind me.”

“So,” Wonwoo began, as if he wasn’t sure what thread to pull on first. “Jihoon had ordered room service already when I went to check up on him.”

“Is that so?” Soonyoung asked, uninterested.

“He was with someone else in the room. I didn’t see them, but,” Wonwoo got closer, whispering the next part. “He had, like, hickeys. And I heard someone groan inside the room,” he leaned back again, looking up like he was remembering the scene and scrutinizing it in his head. “It was so weird. Like I was in a parallel universe.”

“I’m sure he has significant others, like we do,” Soonyoung said flatly. He remembered the sounds so clearly in his head. “You barely ever speak about your girlfriends.”

“That’s different,” Wonwoo stated matter-of-factly. “At least you know I have them. Jihoon has never even mentioned anyone to me once ever since we met. I was beginning to think-”

“Fucking Christ, Wonwoo, you sound like a fucking gossip magazine,” Soonyoung snapped. “Does it really matter?”

Wonwoo’s eyes widened in bemusement at Soonyoung’s reaction. “Of course it matters. He’s my friend.”

“Well, I’m glad he’s your friend, then.”

“What’s this all about?” Wonwoo asked, furrowing his eyebrows as his frustration increased. “Why are you getting all cross with me all of a sudden?”

“Sorry, I just-“ Soonyoung clenched his teeth, trying to come up with any excuse to provide to Wonwoo on the spot. “I feel a bit ill today. I think I’m going to sleep a bit more.”

Wonwoo’s expression softened, but he still seemed unsure. “Okay, then. Remember we need you for the concert tonight, alright? Closing it with a bang.”

“I know,” Soonyoung said and sighed when Wonwoo left his room.

Soonyoung had told Jihoon it didn’t matter, that he’d get over it. How much longer would it take? He was getting tired of waiting.

At 7 p.m. sharp he pressed the button to call the elevator to his floor, ready to leave to the venue of the concert. He got in and just as the doors were about to close he caught sight of Jihoon, walking at a fast pace towards the elevator, so he held the doors. As they opened, Soonyoung saw who was next to him.

The man was tall and had cat-like friendly eyes that nearly vanished when he smiled, politely thanking Soonyoung. His voice sent a shiver down Soonyoung’s spine, now so clear and close to him, and Jihoon stood next to him on the opposite side of the elevator. The guy must have noticed the awkwardness of the situation, because he simply stretched his hand towards Soonyoung with a bright smile.

“I’m Joshua,” he said as Soonyoung reluctantly shook his hand. “Of course you don’t need introductions.”

Soonyoung chuckled dryly. “Oh, please, you’ll make me cocky. I’m Soonyoung.”

“No, really. I’m a big fan,” Joshua continued. “Even from when you were playing at Moonwalker.”

“Oh, you know that bar?” Soonyoung asked, more out of courtesy than anything else. He hadn’t looked at Jihoon once the whole time.

“Well, my father owns it, actually,” Joshua said.

Soonyoung felt his mind blank out for a moment. He couldn’t piece the dots together, or maybe he didn’t want to, but suddenly a picture started to form in his head, and he simply said, “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Joshua didn’t seem to notice anything wrong, calmly chatting as if he hadn’t just shifted Soonyoung’s world. There were suddenly so many floors in the hotel. “That’s where I met Jihoonie.”

The doors dinged open then. Soonyoung didn’t move immediately, but when he snapped out of it he just nodded at Joshua and left the elevator as quickly as he could. His mind was clouded with questions - had Jihoon been with Joshua since back then? Did he keep it hidden all these years?

Wonwoo and Junhui were already in the car. Soonyoung fastened his seat belt, ignoring Wonwoo’s nudge on his arm.

“You look like you just saw a ghost,” Junhui pointed out.

Soonyoung licked his lips and gulped. “Close.”

Outside Jihoon and Joshua waved each other goodbye and Soonyoung could feel Wonwoo and Junhui leaning forward to witness the scene, without missing Wonwoo’s whispered “Oh my God,” as Jihoon made his way to the car.

The ride to the venue was silent and tense, no one meeting each other’s eyes in an almost mutual agreement. Soonyoung could feel his headache spreading. Maybe he could ask Seungcheol for some pills when he got there.

The performance ended up being a disaster on his part, or at least it had felt like it, since Jihoon scowled at him whenever he missed a note or sang slightly out of tune. Look at that, Soonyoung wanted to say, loud and clear into the mic. Guess I can’t fucking get over it.

“I need to talk to you,” Jihoon said at the end of the night, after they had done their ritual circle and Junhui had choked up in the middle of his speech about how much he loved all of them and how big they were going to be. As if he could ever get any bigger than this without exploding, Soonyoung thought.

Jihoon led them back into the dressing room, the room bathed in the odd washed-up light flowing from the rows of light bulbs protruding out of each mirror. Soonyoung stared at himself for awhile and his skin seemed smoother under the weak light, but his expression was also gloomier where the rim of his waterline was drawn a charcoal black that slightly smudged into his skin. Jihoon sat down on the black leather couch, legs spread wide and arms stretching along the back of it as he relaxed, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.

Soonyoung felt out of place. He wanted to grab Jihoon’s hand and bolt out so they could go to his mother’s old house, Soonyoung’s fingers pliant as Jihoon placed them on each string of his cheap guitar, and then perhaps they could have dinner and watch TV, Soonyoung's arm wrapped around Jihoon’s shoulder on the couch. His head felt like static, fizzing in his ears and dying on his throat, the foreign jaundice yellow of the room sliding down his arms and sweating into his palms until his body got too heavy for him to stand up anymore.

"It did go by in a flash, didn't it?" Jihoon asked, recoiling when Soonyoung sat next to him. His eyes were pensive and sad.

"It did," Soonyoung replied. "I'm going to miss it."

Like hell he was.

"I want to talk about what happened today," Jihoon said, shoulders hunched. Soonyoung was about to reach out and straighten him up, but he caught himself in time. "I meant to tell you. All of you. But I didn't think it was that important."

"You have a funny definition of important," Soonyoung deadpanned. "Were you afraid I'd get my hopes up or something? Is that why you brought him over this time?"

"No," Jihoon shook his head. His voice was quiet, almost embarrassed. "He's visiting his family. So I thought-"

"You know something? I don't care. Why are you even telling me this?" Soonyoung lifted himself up from the couch too fast, his head fuzzy and dizzy as Jihoon looked up at him with a tense expression. He reminded Soonyoung of a pressed-up daisy flattened between pages of a heavy book. "Don’t go start pitying me, just- Stop it. I'm over it. I get it. You're in love with someone else. Which is fun, because I thought we were supposed to think about the community or whatever. We’re bigger than ourselves, Soonyoung!”

"I'm not in love with Joshua," Jihoon affirmed, eyebrows dropping to a frown. "Where did you get that idea from?"

"I heard you last night," Soonyoung said. "Although you probably know that, don't you?"

"Oh, that's rich coming from you. You wanna marry everyone you fuck?"

"I don't know, Jihoon! I've never fucked the same person for over three years!" Soonyoung yelled, running a hand through his overly-gelled hair in frustration. "Fuck, and you even did it in the bedroom next to mine. Like, that's fantastic, but maybe if you did it in the bed next to mine I'd believe that you don't want me more."

"Why do you keep making this about you?" Jihoon's fists were balled up in his thighs and Soonyoung swore he could see them shaking. "He's the one who came to see me. It just happened, okay? I don't have to prove anything to you!"

"Okay, great! Then there's no reason for us to be having this conversation," Soonyoung opened his arms and let them fall dramatically again, making his way to the door.

"That's not what I wanted to talk about," Jihoon said. Soonyoung stopped in his tracks. "You can't let this affect the band, Soonyoung! We need you at your top shape."

"Well, then you'll have to find someone else to take my place," Soonyoung turned around, his words leaving his mouth before his brain could catch up. "Because I quit."

Jihoon gaped at him, befuddled, and before he even had time to say anything else Soonyoung turned on his heels and left, through the corridors, through the doors, into the cold night. He breathed in, and as his lungs expanded in his chest he had to fight an unnerving urge to cry.


	2. if you're not ready for love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> everyone cries in this. i'm so sorry.
> 
> merry christmas!

They didn’t use to be like this, Soonyoung thought.

Back in their senior year Jihoon used to bring him coffee whenever Soonyoung was studying at the library, sighing and burying his head completely in his books, as if that was going to help him remember the pages. They never really talked back then either, and when they did it was usually to argue about studying - Jihoon petulantly claiming that memorizing theory was just as important as practical application while Soonyoung vehemently disagreed.

“I don’t see how you would perform correctly without the necessary theoretical basis,” Jihoon would say.

“Easy,” Soonyoung would quickly reply. “I just would.”

These discussions were always pointless, but Soonyoung somehow found comfort in them, in how engaged Jihoon got while he crafted another rebuttal that ended up looping them back to the start and down the same road again. It was familiar, and by the end of it they would both be laughing about some funny episode the other had slipped in to sidetrack the conversation or about the shows they kept up with together (this was something they always shared the same taste in no matter what: if Jihoon liked some comedy sitcom then Soonyoung would watch it and enjoy it by default, and then Soonyoung would recommend a cooking show after they had finished that, and the next day they’d be discussing Julia Child’s recipes, even though both of them knew nothing about cooking).

Jihoon was a nice change from routine, especially whenever Soonyoung got overwhelmed by his own group of friends and needed someone to contradict him instead of indulging him. He loved his friends, sure, but sometimes they were so alike him it got scary. Surprisingly, Jihoon liked Seokmin and Seungkwan immediately, which Soonyoung had deemed almost impossible considering the initial reluctance he had towards Soonyoung showing him any particular kind of physical affection and how Seokmin and Seungkwan managed to be even clingier than him at times. Jihoon, however, would drape himself across Seokmin’s back when they had lunch in the garden and laugh loudly at Seungkwan’s jokes and Soonyoung would have to repress the strange sensation bubbling in his chest that resembled jealousy too much.

Jihoon didn’t have any friends back then, at least not a fixed group. Everyone on campus seemed to know him and Jihoon seemed to know them back, but Soonyoung was sure he wouldn’t hang out with them outside of campus or even share the personal details of his life. That knowledge gave Soonyoung a sense of accomplishment that he was aware was silly, but that was still there nonetheless whenever Jihoon said things like “My mother loved strawberry cupcakes.” or “I remember going to that park when I was a kid.” completely unwarranted.

“I’m not even sure you two are actually friends,” Seokmin jokingly said when they were out at the arcade, Seungkwan focused on the tiny hoop of his basketball game. “Maybe he just hangs out with you out of spite.”

A tiny part of Soonyoung would think, yeah, that’s probably correct, yet another part of him remembered Jihoon taking him along for his first official drive after he had gotten his license, or the time he told Soonyoung about the crush he had on the clarinet player from the orchestra, or of how Jihoon brought him coffee every day, always scalding and with too much sugar, even when he was running late.

“You’re not my maid,” Soonyoung had told him once, after Jihoon had ran into the library that morning to deliver his coffee and had caused the librarian to nearly have a heart attack. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Fine, then. I won’t.”

But he always did and, honestly, Soonyoung never really wanted him to stop, regardless of how selfish that was of him. In exchange, he would always wait for Jihoon to walk him to his dorm whenever he didn’t have any classes left, even if Jihoon only left the building at 8:30 p.m. with sunken eyes and his mouth stubbornly shut. Soonyoung would take his bags, wordlessly, and even though Jihoon had fought him about it at first he began surrendering them immediately after a while, a relieved sigh escaping his lips as his shoulders finally lifted themselves up, free from the weight of the day.

That was them, Soonyoung thought. Not completely friends, but not far from that. Soonyoung liked to think of Jihoon as some sort of partner in crime, the pull of some greater necessity binding them together in some sort of relationship, although he was not quite sure whether he’d be able to label it. They wrote lyrics together and composed and played guitar and sang. That was the greater necessity. In those moments they connected helplessly and Soonyoung felt himself getting more and more entangled until Jihoon snapped him out of it with a correction or a suggestion, and the moment would be gone.

Music had never come easy to him until he had met Jihoon.

“I didn’t know you could play,” Seungkwan had commented suspiciously when Soonyoung and Seokmin were staying over at his house, having a movie night. Soonyoung had taken a liking to one of Seungkwan’s dad’s guitars and had naively asked if he could play it.

“Just a bit,” he had shrugged.

He played for them and they had been so stunned Seungkwan had asked Seokmin to pinch him. Soonyoung had rolled his eyes at their usual antics and then had switched the tune to some ridiculous trot song that Jihoon said made his ears bleed but that delighted his friends more than any ballad ever could.

They didn’t use to be like this until _Moonwalker_ , he realized. Even with Junhui and Wonwoo, after Seokmin and Seungkwan had become relegated to his photo albums and bulky contact list, Jihoon was still the same to him. He kept teetering on that line between partnership and friendship, excitedly jogging over to the couch when the jingle to the show they were watching at that time came on, yet keeping quiet the whole way through. When the next day came he would talk to Soonyoung about the episode as if he hadn’t been right there beside him.

During those times, though, Jihoon would lean on Soonyoung, hair brushing against his shoulder as he got comfortable on the couch (and Soonyoung would childishly think, _Finally_ , as if he had been washing the dishes for long enough to get a bike for Christmas). That was the difference. The way Jihoon tugged at his arm when he wanted to get closer to a shop window or how he got on his tiptoes to whisper in Soonyoung’s ear whenever they were in a loud place.

The difference was that they weren’t strangers.

In _Moonwalker_ they performed, Jihoon on one mic, he on another, and then they’d leave and form a circle where one of them would give a speech, and that was the only time they ever truly touched. Jihoon didn’t come over to his house anymore. They lost track of their shows - who had time for TV anyway?

The tour was lonely except for Junhui and Wonwoo, and sometimes even Seungcheol, but then again there was that empty feeling of missing someone who would challenge him if he said the curtains were blue when they were actually yellow. Junhui would agree - he was a people pleaser - and Wonwoo would do so as well, even if sarcastically - he hated confrontation. But he loved them still, and sometimes they reminded him of Seokmin and Seungkwan when they played some stupid song together and danced on the moving bus.

Jihoon would be locked in his room and Soonyoung would get impatient, but he wouldn’t say anything. He hated confrontation as well, so he would find Wonwoo and play a game of cards with him instead, and on nights that got so terribly silent, the bumps on the road rocking him in his bunk bed and the sounds of the engine almost seeming to come from inside his head, he liked to imagine that he fell for Wonwoo or Junhui instead. Not even in his imagination could he allow himself to imagine Jihoon falling back, but Wonwoo and Junhui would, Wonwoo shy and contained and Junhui excited and bright. Yet when he closed his eyes and tried to imagine it he would think of Jihoon instead, glancing at him and Wonwoo irritatedly from across the room and interrupting his and Junhui’s conversation to tell them to go back to practice.

Those were the strings he held on to. And as the days passed and the locations wore off his tired eyes, he grew sick of living the same day over and over again. Hair and makeup, perform, make a circle (sometimes Jihoon would be on his side and grip his shoulder and Soonyoung would tentatively hover his hand above Jihoon’s back), go to the hotel, back to the bus, play cards and chatter and play music, and then rinse and repeat. How much longer? Soonyoung would ask himself. Is there a way out?

That’s how the hookups started. First there was a makeup artist called Min that had flirted with him for so long and was so pretty and kind that Soonyoung had thought, _Maybe I can move on after all_ , but then he had slept with her (the first woman he’d slept with since college) and had felt instantly terrible that he’d not only deceived himself, but also her.

“You’re a great girl,” he had told her the morning after, feeling like an asshole. “You deserve someone better.”

She had quit her job the next day.

After a while he couldn’t stop, fooling himself every night that this one might be the one, and the tedium was broken in the form of nightclubs in foreign cities, and red light districts, and bars. Sometimes there were men, always more carefully hidden, but Soonyoung would never let himself go home with the shorter, skinnier ones, ones who would remind him too much of the reason he was in those situations in the first place.

Rinse and repeat. And in the silent nights at the hotel he’d imagine Jihoon saying something, anything, maybe an offhand comment about how he had arrived so late at the hotel that evening, or an irritated remark about how Soonyoung was too needy and pathetic to even function. But Jihoon never said anything.

So the days went on and Jihoon grew more and more distant. They both began to write and compose music on their own, since whenever they tried to collaborate it would come out a jumbled mess of _i miss yous_ and _i love yous_ , and Soonyoung wouldn’t be able to prevent himself from snapping at Jihoon about every tiny detail until Junhui had to pull them apart once the discussion had escalated.

Jihoon would shake his head and say, “Sorry. Let’s continue.” and Soonyoung would echo him after a while. They never truly got anything done, the clash of sounds becoming too dissonant and confusing, and Wonwoo would call for a break which usually meant that it was a wrap for the day.

Soonyoung couldn’t feel him anymore, not even in their music. The next single they were supposed to release was some droned out tune Jihoon had produced all by himself after weeks of changing it over and over again and Soonyoung remembered how much Wonwoo had grumbled when they were alone about how robotic it sounded. It didn’t matter anymore, though. He wouldn’t be there to record it.

-

His mother received him with open arms, hugging him tightly and asking why he hadn’t called. She hadn’t been upset when Soonyoung told her he had quit, just very quiet and stern.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” She asked.

“I can’t do it anymore,” Soonyoung said. “I need time to forget about all of it. I need some rest.”

“Okay, sweetheart,” she reassured him, petting his head affectionately. “Take all the time you need.”

Soonyoung stayed cooped up in his makeshift blank slate of a room, ignoring the phone ringing in the living room that he knew without a shadow of a doubt would be Seungcheol calling to lecture him. He lounged around the house in his worn Led Zeppelin shirt and boxer briefs, raiding the fridge for snacks before slumping on the couch to watch whatever was on TV. He closed his eyes and imagined Jihoon next to him, concentrated as tiny squares danced on the lenses of his glasses.

Eventually he wrote down some of Julia's recipes and statched up enough butter to last a winter. It was soothing to bake - following steps, performing them correctly and getting the intended results. Feeling the dough underneath his palms Soonyoung didn't think about the band, just about what topping he would try this time and sometimes paying attention to clips and bits of the radio.

(He tried not to think of Jun's birthday, of Jihoon's excitement when the cake came out of the oven unburnt, despite its amateurish appearance).

His mother shook her head fondly as he placed another batch of cookies in front of her. She still ate them with relish, though, and talked about her gardenias while drinking her afternoon tea on the garden porch. Soonyoung could only think of home and of the tenderness of being a child again while eating mandarin oranges on the outdoor steps. But even that couldn't last forever.

“You can’t stay cooped up all day,” his mother told him one terribly weary day before leaving for her weekly grocery shopping. Soonyoung was listening to some records and dreaming up scenarios in his head, with no plans whatsoever to move from his position. “Besides, I’ve already put on weight from all the cakes you’ve been baking. You need some other means of distraction, sweetie.”

“I don’t really feel like being recognized outside,” Soonyoung grumbled, flipping to his side on the couch. It was raining so hard the blinds were banging on the windows, tugged and pushed by the wind. The malls were probably flooded with people.

“Well, then why don’t you go see your old friends? I’m sure they’re dying to hear about you,” she suggested, picking up her purse from the coat hanger. “I’ve bumped into Seokmin’s mother quite a few times at the store and she always talks about how much he misses you.”

“I guess,” he half-heartedly agreed, groaning when his mother came over to press a wet kiss to his cheek before leaving.

"Be careful with the rain," she said, smiling, and closed the door.

So Soonyoung unearthed his old contact list and called Seokmin, and then Seungkwan, and they all decided to meet up at Seokmin’s. He tried not to overthink it, yet he couldn't help feeling nervous and excited about seeing them after postponing it for so long. He was scared, too - that they would think he changed and forgot all about them while tasting his five minutes of fame. Soonyoung left a note with Seokmin's house number for his mother, in case she needed anything, grabbed his warmest coat and went out.

A woman had picked up the phone when Soonyoung had called Seokmin, so Soonyoung wasn’t really surprised when a tall girl opened the door and invited him to come in.

“I’m Yuna,” she said, and even though she seemed shy at first she had a smile nearly as bright as Seokmin’s. Soonyoung grinned to himself. “Of course you don’t have to tell me who you are. I’m a big fan.”

“Funny, people keep telling me that. I guess I can throw my business card away.”

Seokmin was in the kitchen when Soonyoung came in, fanning a towel in front of the open stove with a creased brow. He noticed Soonyoung’s presence almost instantly and placed the steaming serving dish on the counter before taking off his mittens and running to Soonyoung for a long hug. Yuna laughed, commenting “If you keep up I’m going to be jealous,” and Seokmin finally let go.

“Oh, man. You look different from TV,” Seokmin joked.

“Yeah, well, we got makeup artists to fix this,” Soonyoung pointed to his face. “And people to dress us. It’s a whole different world.”

“I believe you, pal. How’s Jihoon?”

Soonyoung tensed. “He’s good. We just finished tour so, you know, haven’t been that in touch with him.”

“Ah,” Seokmin said, slumping slightly. “Well, sit down. I made shepherd's pie.”

It went better than Soonyoung had expected. Seungkwan showed up later, pouting when he realized they had already munched down more than half of the pie before peppering Soonyoung’s face with kisses like he was a baby. 

“I can’t believe I see you and Jihoon on TV now. You should have brought him with you,” Seungkwan said, already cutting a large slice for himself.

Soonyoung drank some lemonade to cool down. This really wasn’t helping him at all.

“I’m sure he’d be surprised that Seokmin is the first of us to get hitched,” Soonyoung laughed at Seokmin’s flustered expression and Yuna’s sheepish flush. “Or not yet?”

“Living together was already quite a big step…” Yuna said. “It’s only been a year.”

Seokmin grabbed her hand and they both smiled sweetly at each other. Seungkwan fake gagged and even though Soonyoung joined him he still felt a hint of jealousy in the pit of his stomach, that Seokmin had found someone and was so stupidly and grossly happy.

They spent the afternoon catching up, about how Yuna and Seokmin had met at their shared internship and how Seungkwan was a DJ at a local radio show now and would slip in Seventeen songs every time he could, but mostly the conversation would inevitably steer towards Soonyoung and the band. Which inevitably meant talking about Jihoon.

“I actually…” Soonyoung swallowed, fidgeting in his seat. _Out with it_. “Kind of quit?”

“What?” Seungkwan and Seokmin exclaimed nearly in unison.

“We kind of had a fallout,” Soonyoung said, shaking his head. “Jihoon and I.”

“I don’t believe that,” Seokmin piped in. “You guys are best friends.”

Soonyoung shot him a confused glance. “I thought you didn’t even think we were friends.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Seokmin continued. “Only an idiot wouldn’t be able to see how much you guys care for each other.”

“God, you and Jihoon, uh? Always making things harder for yourselves,” Seungkwan said and Soonyoung could feel his heart dropping to his stomach.

The phone rang. Soonyoung watched as Seokmin stood up to take the call while Yuna and Seungkwan discussed people Soonyoung didn’t know. It felt odd to slip back into such a normal routine, even though it had only been a couple of years since he had last seen his friends. They gossiped about people in college and what they looked like now, where they were at, who they were with. The room was stuffed with the remaining traces of smoke from the oven and Soonyoung rubbed his arms - he hadn’t noticed the temperature going down.

“Hey, Soonyoung,” Seokmin called him from the door. His voice was so thin it barely traveled its way to Soonyoung’s ears. “It’s for you.”

Soonyoung looked at Seungkwan and Yuna, who both gave him concerned looks and unknowing shrugs, and then the stood up, took the phone from Seokmin’s hands and picked it up.

“Hello?”

“Soonyoung,” a familiar voice breathed, creating a crackle of static on the other side. “Oh, I've been looking everywhere for you!”

“Aunt Soljin?” Soonyoung tried to keep his voice down, but it got harder and harder as his panic began threatening to overthrow his judgement. He could tell his aunt had been crying. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

“Oh, darling... I’m so, so sorry,” his aunt sobbed on the other end of the line and Soonyoung ceased breathing, as if by doing so he could stop the clocks and prevent hearing the words that came next. “Your mother was in an accident. Oh, Soonyoung, she - she didn't make it.”

Soonyoung stood there in silence for a moment. Seokmin had a fireplace right in the middle of the living room and he focused on the pictures on the mantel, finding one of all three of them together in college, framed.

“Is this a joke? Please, tell me it’s a joke,” Soonyoung pleaded. He promised himself he would forgive his aunt for her cruel joke just as long as his mother was safe and sound, setting the groceries in each designated compartment at home.

“I know this is hard -” was all he heard before he hung up. He stared at the phone in his hand, curling his fingers around it tightly. _No_ , he thought. He had just seen his mother, healthy and smiling and telling him to get out of the house. _No_ , he repeated in his head, _no, no, no_.

He should have went with her. He should have offered to help her shopping instead of meeting his friends; then this never would have happened, and if it did he would have at least been beside her. Yet there he was, taking in deep gulps of breath because he was still alive and his mother was not, and suddenly there didn’t seem to be much of a difference anymore.

He startled at the hand on his shoulder and turned to see Seokmin with his lips pursed and his eyebrows furrowed. Soonyoung didn’t know what to tell him. Verbalizing it would make it so much realer, would shift everything that had once been familiar. It didn't even feel real - not while he was standing there with words floating around his head instead of a body to mourn over.

“Soonyoung…” Seokmin started, but Soonyoung simply shook his head. “I’ll drive you home. C’mon.”

It took Soonyoung a couple of seconds of stuttering to fully voice out his quiet “No”, and suddenly he was shaking, Seokmin reaching out to hold him. Soonyoung buried his head on Seokmin’s shoulder and felt like he couldn’t even cry before he eventually did, loud and wailing. Seungkwan and Yuna came running from the kitchen.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Seungkwan asked, rubbing gentle circles on Soonyoung’s back. Yuna went back into the kitchen and came back with a glass of water that Soonyoung took reluctantly. He chugged it down and some of it dripped to his jaw, mixed with his tears and snot.

“Mom-“ he hiccuped and no one asked any further. “The car-“

“Yes,” Seokmin promptly offered. “We’ll go with you, alright? It’s going to be okay.”

Soonyoung nodded. His chest burned so heavily it was a wonder a piece of his muscle tissue didn’t just peel away like velcro and left a gashing wound in the middle, right where his heart was supposed to be.

He let Seungkwan guide him blindly to the car.

-

Arrangements were odd when they were made over someone’s corpse.

Soonyoung had to listen to the will that divided his mother’s belongings and to the funerary home employee recommending the finest oak for a casket and to condolences, so many condolences he lost count of them. They were the same condolences he was offered growing up when he told people that his father had passed when he was only three and that his biological mother had abandoned them right after he was born. An orphan, would be what they would label him, but he had never truly felt like one. Until now.

His adoptive mother- His _mother_ , had always been there for him, had taken care of and educated him, had comforted him over his tiny, insignificant problems, had supported him starting a garage band even though she knew she would have to work more than one job to endorse his lifestyle. In return Soonyoung had been rowdy as a kid, skipped classes and fought his classmates, didn’t try nearly half as hard to find a job as he should have, ignored his mother arriving home at 3 a.m. by pretending to be asleep to avoid the guilt.

Guilt flooded him now. It filtered through every vein and left him feeling nauseated and miserable. _My good-for-nothing son_ , he imagined her saying in his head. _And still I love you so much_.

His aunt had been nearly as shaken up as him, but she had called everyone in their family she deemed decent enough to be worthy of attending the funeral and told him not to worry about it. Instead Soonyoung called Seungcheol, who had immediately began shouting at him until Soonyoung had muttered a soft apology that had Seungcheol halt his rant immediately.

“Soonyoung, what’s wrong?” Seungcheol asked, stern and worried like a parent.

“My mom passed,” he somehow managed to say, rubbing the middle of his forehead to soothe the headache beginning to form. “I just wanted to know if you and the guys wanted to come to the funeral.”

“Oh,” Seungcheol said. “Of course we’ll go. I’m going to talk to them and book in the next flight,” silence. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Soonyoung closed his eyes. “Thank you.”

He was back on the church pews, squeezed between his aunt and cousin, clenching his jaw tightly. When the priest instructed him to stand up, Soonyoung mulled over his head what to do, that no matter what he wouldn’t cry. But of course, he did. The casket was closed - her body had suffered too many injuries. In the picture set upon it she was smiling and Soonyoung thought that they looked so alike then. He felt a strange urge to vomit.

He could barely greet anyone, too afraid to face their pity and barely contained tears, but he found himself being grateful that they had come, that he could look across the room and see Junhui smiling shakily at him or Seokmin hiding his face in Yuna’s neck so Soonyoung wouldn’t see him cry.

The day passed by slowly, dragging on beneath the pale September sky, the wind biting but at the same time so pure in its iciness that Soonyoung could feel each of his breaths become more and more clear. He wanted to leave, to go home, yet when he eventually did he would still have to fix up the food and drinks and let people into their house, into the space that was theirs and theirs alone.

He opened the slide door that led from the kitchen to the back garden and sat down, pulling his jacket closer to him. He thought back to when he had offered his mother to buy her a new house with all the money he had made, still high on the idea that he was making so much he could afford her an actual place that was larger than their house at the time all by himself. When he had stepped into the house she had chosen, however, he felt disheartened. Even though it had been in better conditions than the former, it had pretty much the same dimensions and was in an area of town so remote that the price had lowered significantly.

“It’s peaceful up here,” she had said, smiling wide. “And it has a garden.”

Now Soonyoung looked at the mowed lawn and scattered plants his mother had grown, his shoulders rising up to his ears. The muffled chatter from the living room prevented the place from being completely peaceful, but at least in the garden it was silent. His aunt had insisted they had more space outside, but Soonyoung had refused to let anyone into the garden, the place his mother had spent her time in, peaceful and alone.

“Hey,” a voice piped up behind him and Soonyoung looked up. “Isn’t it too cold to be outside?”

Soonyoung scooted over to let Jihoon sit down next to him. “Just a bit.”

A beat of silence. “I’ve never been to this house before,” Jihoon said. “It’s… nice.”

“Yeah,” Soonyoung shrugged. “It’s alright.”

Jihoon pulled the sleeves of his sweater over his hands, shoulder nudging Soonyoung’s slightly. The blades of grass crumbled under the soles of his shoes, tiny pieces of green mixing with the damp dirt.

“Are you okay?”

Soonyoung shook his head at the ground, weary of the way Jihoon was looking at him. Jihoon placed one hand on Soonyoung’s face and gently pulled him towards him, until Soonyoung’s forehead was pressed against his shoulder, Jihoon’s hands on the back of his neck and between his shoulder blades. He felt too exhausted to cry again, so he just closed his eyes and let Jihoon hold him for a while.

“I’m sorry, Soonyoung. I, I don’t know what to do,” Jihoon said. “I wish I knew wha-what to do to make things better.”

Soonyoung didn’t answer. He could feel Jihoon burying his face on his neck, tears warm as they fell on Soonyoung’s exposed skin. Like this Soonyoung felt as if he could fall asleep, tired bones sinking against Jihoon’s body, heavy eyelids drooping whenever he tried to open them. _Don't stutter_ , he wanted to tell Jihoon. _It breaks my heart_.

You weren’t supposed to lose everyone important to you at twenty-three. After this Jihoon would go back to the band along with Junhui and Wonwoo while Seokmin and Seungkwan would go back to their own busy lives, and Soonyoung would be left in this unfamiliar house, its once pleasant tranquility now terrifying and deafening. Soonyoung had never felt so helpless and alone in his entire life.

“Soonyoung,” Jihoon whispered as he moved away, hands sliding to Soonyoung’s shoulders instead. “Please come back with us.”

Soonyoung blinked at him, still slightly dazed. He didn't say anything.

“We need you. And- And you need us as well. So, please,” Jihoon still had tears freshly stricken across his cheeks, but he didn’t try to wipe them away. “Don’t isolate yourself from us.”

Jihoon broke away his gaze and retreated his hands, settling them on top of his thighs. Soonyoung reached for one of them after a moment, seizing it in his, and didn’t make a sound until Jihoon looked back at him.

“Okay,” was all Soonyoung answered.

Jihoon smiled and squeezed Soonyoung’s hand. “I’m going to miss her.”

Soonyoung smiled back, feebly. “Yeah. Me too.”

-

The next few days were hard, especially since the only times Soonyoung was ever alone was when he went to sleep in his featureless, impersonal bedroom. He couldn’t blame the other members - it was their vacation also, and they were allowed a break before travelling all the way down to Sofia, where they were to record the demo of their next single to show to the label Seungcheol was aiming for.

They helped Soonyoung get rid of things such as his mother’s clothes and shoes, wrapping it all up in large bags to give away to charity. Wonwoo and Jihoon slept on the couches downstairs while Junhui claimed the guest bedroom, and during the day they would drag Soonyoung to teach them how to bake, or watch tv, or even to leave the house. Jihoon laid his head on Soonyoung’s lap one evening, frowning at a blank page on his notebook and taking a drag on his cigarette before asking “What about Sophia?”

“It’s a good name,” Wonwoo agreed, reluctantly retreating his legs from the small table in front of the couches when Soonyoung gave him a pointed glare. “ _Sophia, you’re breaking my heart_ ,” he sang.

“ _You’re shaking my confidence daily_ ,” Soonyoung finished up for him. “Jun, stop watching that melodrama and tell us what you think.”

“Hey! This is masterful cinema. Pure art,” Junhui protested. “And I think it’s great. Anything Jihoon puts forward is great.”

“Way to be a free-thinker,” Wonwoo said, rolling his eyes.

“Well, every great band has a song with a girl’s name,” Jihoon explained. “We need one as well.”

“Really? All of them?” Wonwoo asked. “Queen?”

“Delilah,” Jihoon replied without missing a beat.

“The Rolling Stones?”

“Angie.”

“The Beatles?”

“Seriously? Lucy in the sky. Michelle. Eleanor fucking Rigby.”

“Uh,” Wonwoo pondered for a moment. “Guess I never noticed that.”

Jihoon jotted down Sophia, and Soonyoung pretended he didn’t notice the extra _o_ Jihoon had written before scribbling over it and elongating it into a _p_. “It’s going to be a hit between Sophias at least.”

At times Soonyoung would be walking around the house and bump into something - a framed picture, a stray hair band, a receipt from a store - and he’d feel so overwhelmed that he had to stay still for a few moments until grief washed over him completely and he could move again. He didn’t think about anything in particular at those times, but images would flash in his mind of his childhood and adolescence, and when he was alone at night he’d realize with solemnity that his mother would never see him walk down the aisle, would never watch that tree in the garden grow until it was taller than him, would never kiss him or hug him or hold him again.

Twenty-three years was all he got, Soonyoung would think, always bitterly and always desperate to drive his fist into a wall. And of those twenty-three he had been away for two, plus those months of Spring Break and those long weeks when him and Seokmin and Seungkwan drove somewhere else for their holidays, and the weeks of summer camp and the hours of school and karate practice, and then how much time had they truly had together? He was so young, he felt then. He had thought of time as a kind thing, something that flowed and flowed and only ceased when he was old and grey. But his mother was only fifty-one, and he felt the minutes, the hours, the days slipping from his fingers even after he had held them so carefully, so gently.

During nights when he couldn’t get those thoughts out of his head he would thrash around in bed, sinking his face into his pillow until he could barely breathe. This prompted Junhui to walk into his room at random hours of the evening to check up on him, and Soonyoung would still himself, pretending to be asleep, waiting until Junhui’s steps got further away so he could open his eyes again and stare at the darkness that embraced his closet and his curtains and, finally, himself.

They all cared about him so much that he would never allow himself to break down in front of them again. Soonyoung told himself that this was simply because he didn’t want to worry them, but a part of him knew that he was also scared. Scared that they would think he was too weak, too unstable to go back to work, and that they would abandon him there, bind him to his nightly ritual of searching for something in the dark.

One night Soonyoung heard steps in the hallway and, assuming it was Junhui, had closed his eyes as usual. However, instead of them drawing away slowly, the footsteps grew closer, and suddenly there was a hand on Soonyoung’s shoulder, shaking it gently. He opened his eyes slowly and saw Jihoon outlined against the dim light of the corridor.

“I can’t sleep,” Jihoon whispered, and Soonyoung noticed he was carrying a pillow under his arm. “Mind if I stay here?”

“Uh, sure,” Soonyoung said after a beat of surprised silence, pulling the covers back so Jihoon could climb in.

When Soonyoung was in college he’d sometimes do this with Seokmin and Seungkwan, comfortably snuggling his forehead between Seokmin’s shoulder blades as Seungkwan wrapped an arm around his waist. He guessed those weren’t the kind of things college students were meant to be doing on their friday nights, but it made him feel secure and loved.

The only time Jihoon had to stay over was during a snowstorm, and Soonyoung remembered how they had fought over the couch like two lions disputing the same prey. When he had suggested for them both to take the bed Jihoon had given him this pitying, or perhaps pleading look that Soonyoung couldn’t interpret and had said, “Let me take the couch. Please.”

So Soonyoung had walked upstairs, defeated, and when at 2 a.m. his stomach tricked him into thinking that he was hungry just to have an excuse to walk past the living room, Soonyoung had stalled looking at Jihoon, with his hair fanned out on the pillow and the blanket covering half of his face. He had immediately made his way into the kitchen and then returned to his bedroom just as hastily, scared that Jihoon might wake up and terrified that he would lose himself in more confusing thoughts.

Four years later and Jihoon was still here, giving him that same thoughtful look that had Soonyoung’s heart aching. Soonyoung’s limbs felt stiff and cold under the layers covering him, and he curled in on himself so Jihoon wouldn’t jump at his cold feet brushing his or at their knees knocking against each other.

“Junhui will probably come check up on me,” Soonyoung warned him, quietly.

“Oh, I bumped into him downstairs,” Jihoon said. “I told him I’d check up on you, so you don’t have to worry about him.”

Soonyoung felt the back of his neck heat up, then his face and ears. “Okay.”

Jihoon closed his eyes. He was lying on his front with his face pressed to the pillow, and Soonyoung turned away as he always did when his heart started beating too fast around Jihoon, facing the closet.

“Do you want to…” Jihoon trailed off, his voice so small Soonyoung thought he had imagined it at first. “Do you… you know.”

Soonyoung flipped to his other side to look back at Jihoon. The latter’s gaze was fixed on some point between them, his lips pressed tightly like he was afraid he’d say something more.

“What?” Soonyoung mumbled sleepily.

“Maybe we could- It’s cold,” Jihoon said.

Soonyoung was so used to Jihoon always finding the best words in interviews and while writing lyrics that it was always surprising how awkward he could get when he was embarrassed about something, how tongue-tied. Soonyoung inched closer, to make sure he hadn’t misunderstood it, and slotted his head underneath Jihoon’s chin. He listened as a gasp got stuck in Jihoon’s throat while he held his breath, as Jihoon’s heart thrummed right next to his cheek.

“Like this?” Soonyoung asked, lips dangerously close to Jihoon’s collarbones.

“Soonyoung...” Jihoon said weakly, and Soonyoung wrapped an arm around his hips.

“What?”

Jihoon’s shirt was warm and smelt of laundry detergent, but his skin was indeed icy cold.

“I could go grab an extra blanket,” Soonyoung suggested.

“No,” Jihoon said, almost automatically. “It’s fine. Just stay, okay?”

Soonyoung shifted away and Jihoon grabbed his shoulder firmly to keep him in place, yet Soonyoung still slithered to his side of the bed until he was able to see Jihoon’s face again, shrouded in darkness and barely perceptible.

“Are you flustered right now?”

“Fuck off,” was Jihoon’s instinctive response. “You’re annoying when you talk, did you know that?”

“You should make me shut up, then,” Soonyoung said, and he knew how much of a mistake it was even as he was saying it. Knee-jerk reaction. “Sorry.”

“Aren’t you tired of this, Soonyoung?” His name sounded so different in Jihoon’s voice, so much softer.

“Of what?”

“Of everything. I talked to Seungkwan and Seokmin at the funeral and they said you looked sad even before..." he trailed off. "And I, I just wanted you to be the best guitarist you could be at the start, to show you you could do it. But now, I don’t know. I just want you to be happy. It’s been such a rough year.”

“Can I tell you something?” Jihoon nodded. “I am happy. I miss my mom, but she was the best mom I could have asked for. And you guys are the best friends I could have asked for.”

“I don’t know how you can be so positive,” Jihoon sighed. “But then again, I was so scared you would just… shut yourself down. Hide yourself behind jokes and fake smiles. I’m still scared for you. You can be such a stubborn asshole sometimes.”

Soonyoung wondered if Jihoon had seen all the pills or the empty racks on the fridge where the alcohol used to be. He felt like Jihoon could just peer through him, touch a raw nerve and then simply leave it there, tingling to make its presence known and aching like a deep bruise. Sometimes Soonyoung wished Jihoon would just reach out and soothe him until the bitter taste of bile in his mouth went away, until he felt just a little bit better.

“It does hurt,” Soonyoung admitted, quietly. “Some days it gets so unbearable, like, like I won’t ever run out of tears. But I know she wouldn't have wanted me to push you away. She always said I never gave you enough credit,” he chuckled at the memory. “I know you told her about the time you punched me, too.”

“Ah,” Jihoon grinned bashfully. “I didn’t tell her why, though. I didn’t know if you...“

He trailed off.

“I told her eventually,” Soonyoung said.

“I suppose it went well,” he could hear the smile in Jihoon’s voice.

“She said I could do better than you,” Soonyoung teased and Jihoon hit his chest with a closed fist, muffling his laughter on his pillow so he wouldn’t wake anyone up. “Jihoon? He’s too prissy. And he looks like a mole without his glasses on.”

“I look sexy without my glasses, fuck you,” Jihoon said, pretending to be offended.

“You have to stop believing everything _Bravo_ says, Jihoonie. It’s gonna get to your head.”

His mind warned him, begged him to stop, but Soonyoung’s hand slipped to Jihoon’s pillow and he could almost feel Jihoon’s stray hairs against his pinky. He wanted to touch him so badly, to have Jihoon allowing him for once.

“What? You don’t agree with the list of Top Ten Sexiest Group Vocalists? I’m disheartened,” Jihoon grinned and Soonyoung swore he scooted closer to him, his face stopping right next to his hand.

“I’m tired,” Soonyoung said suddenly, retreating his hand. “I think I’m gonna sleep now. Goodnight, Jihoon.”

“Okay,” Jihoon said. “Goodnight.”

At around 2 a.m., Soonyoung opened his eyes. He had dozed off while pretending to be asleep and, disoriented, wondered if he had been dreaming. But when he refocused he noticed Jihoon staring at him, sleepily, and couldn’t bring himself to look away, as if he was paralyzed.

“Can’t sleep?” Jihoon whispered.

“No.”

“Let’s make a song then,” Jihoon said. “ _It’s two am and the clocks go by so slowly_ ,” Jihoon sang quietly in a whisper and Soonyoung smiled instinctively.

“I don’t know what rhymes with slowly,” Soonyoung said. “Ravioli?”

“Okay, you start then.”

“ _It’s two am and the clocks keep ticking on_ ,” Jihoon snorted.

“You just ripped me off,” he complained.

“Maybe. Your turn.”

“Fine,” Jihoon took some time to think. “ _We talk to about nothing until the first hints of dawn_.”

“ _Eyes fixed on each other without turning away_.”

“ _Our mouths telling stories of all we can’t say_ ,” Jihoon continued.

“Very poetic,” Soonyoung joked, but his skin felt warm all over. “I don’t think I can match that.”

“Soonyoung,” Jihoon’s voice became stern, clearer, but still quiet. Soonyoung clasped the pillow under his head, eyes tracing Jihoon’s face. “I’m in love with you.”

Soonyoung closed his eyes and thought back to the taped packet of cigarettes peeking out from the pocket of Jihoon’s coat, _3_ _/day_ scribbled over the tape like a prescription. He had thought then, _Maybe_ , but his mind had been filled with howling and screeching to fill in the void of losing someone so dear to him and he hadn’t been able to mull over it any longer.

But now there was no maybe. There was just Jihoon saying “I’m in love with you” just like Soonyoung had fantasized over and over again, and his eyes prickling with hot tears as he shook his head.

“No, you aren’t. You’re just feeling sorry for me,” Soonyoung said, attempting a smile. “But this is enough. I don’t need anything but to know that you’re here with me.”

Jihoon didn’t say anything to that and so Soonyoung fell asleep again, this time certain it had been a dream. When he woke up Jihoon wasn’t there, but the crinkles on the sheets were and, on top of them, a ripped piece of paper that Soonyoung picked up carefully.

_It’s two am and the clocks keep ticking on_  
_We talk about nothing until the first hints of dawn_  
_Eyes fixed on each other without turning away_  
_Our mouths telling stories of all we can’t say_

Soonyoung held his breath reading it, then rereading it over and over until his heart thudded loudly from lack of oxygen, and he exhaled while bunching up the paper in his fist. It sounded so stupid, so cliché, rushed, unfeeling. “Every love song has been written before,” Wonwoo had told him just after they had started touring. “You just have to be good at rewriting them.”

And yet, Soonyoung never thought Jihoon wrote love songs. He wrote about other things, - almost-love, unrequited love, someone else falling in love, a love story in the newspaper, crushes, attractive strangers - but not love. He was reminded of their sessions, and how when Jihoon sang _I love you_ his gaze would slide towards Soonyoung like he was encouraging him to sing the next line, and Soonyoung would see white behind his eyelids from how angry he got at him in those moments, and they ended up never finishing the song.

Sofia was bearable, most of their time spent on the studio, recording and recording to the point of desperation whenever they couldn’t get something just right. At night they would go to a bar, or sightseeing, and Soonyoung would go back to their residency and replay in his mind words from his mother and then, helplessly, of Jihoon saying “I’m in love with you.”

In Sofia there was no Joshua, but there were wannabe roadies and drugs and alcohol. Soonyoung drank the most out of all of them, and even though they all indulged in a joint or two Soonyoung had felt sick to his stomach when he had tried cocaine and vowed to never try it again.

“It doesn’t even do anything,” he complained to Junhui, morosely. “Just makes me feel like shit.”

Everything was bright and distracting, the stench of weed and sex (for the first time in his life he hadn’t been able to enjoy sex, and sometimes he’d have to pretend to pass out drunk to avoid the embarrassment of not being able to get it up), the terrible indulgences they would partake in simply because they had to.

Wonwoo liked being high, liked the thrumming of blood in his ears and the mist over his eyes and how, during those times, he was allowed to think about nothing. Soonyoung liked it as well, but when he came down from it, just like the coke, he felt miserable and wished for more.

Junhui spent most of his time having sex and reading and smoking cigarettes he had stolen from Jihoon because they were all going to waste anyway, as he had put it. Sometimes Soonyoung felt Junhui was the only one truly happy between all of them, certainly the one who left the residency the most to visit museums and theatres, and most often than not he’d come back with someone and go at it all night like an hormonal teenager finding out the wonders of sex for the first time. When Soonyoung walked into his room the next morning he would inevitably be shirtless, reading, a thin column of smoke rising from the crushed cigarette on the ashtray by his bedside.

“The maid found the letter,” he would update Soonyoung, thumb pressed to the page, and Soonyoung would smile, ignoring the naked woman lying right next to Junhui.

“Damn. How will you ever eat breakfast with that in mind?”

“I always have room for more,” Junhui said, and then laughed, a full-bellied laughter that Soonyoung loved to hear, even for the strangely comforting pleasure of it.

Jihoon did drugs as well, Soonyoung knew it, but it was almost never with them. He would invite or get invited to the houses of music producers and writers and actors and would do them there instead, and Soonyoung found himself frantically searching the curve of Jihoon’s arm whenever he came back. When he found nothing he would be relieved, and even the hickeys on Jihoon’s neck didn’t phase him, but they did make him wonder _Is he doing this for the band as well?_

One afternoon, as honeyed sunlight smoothed down their bodies like large beams between the spaces blocked out by the blinders, they had all laid down on Junhui’s bed, staring up at the ceiling, and Jihoon had said, “Let’s not ruin our bodies too much. Let’s be happy,” while high out of his mind and Soonyoung had wanted to laugh, but also to tell him he loved him, and if he opened his mouth he wasn’t sure which would come out. So he didn’t.

“I don’t like needles anyway,” Wonwoo had muttered, the back of his hand against his forehead as if he was testing out a fever. “Or that LSD thing. Remember when we tried that, Junnie?”

But Junhui hadn’t, and Soonyoung had found Wonwoo’s hand and gripped it like an anchor before he fell in and out of consciousness every few minutes. He was so tired. Jihoon had nestled his head on top of Soonyoung’s chest at some point, and for a moment they all seemed entangled there, weighed down by their freedom and luck and sorrows and pain, and he didn’t ever feel like getting up.

The listening session was at the same time terrifying and exciting, the man nodding as they played, first individually, then as a group. Soonyoung had stared at his bald spot the whole time to avoid looking down to his tinted glasses, so he wouldn’t wonder whether he was looking at him.

 _That one_ , the man would say in his worst scenario, pointing right at Soonyoung with one of his chubby fingers. _I want him out_. Yet it had turned out just as Seungcheol had expected, and they brought their contracts with them to read through them together, and had signed like they knew they would even if one of the conditions had been shaking hands with the devil himself.

It was as they were in the studio for their next album that Soonyoung realized that those intervals between recording and sleeping were always the most frightening. This was all he had now, he thought. He had no particular talents outside of music, and if he ever left he wouldn’t have anyone to shelter him anymore, his mother wouldn’t be there to sustain him while he found something to do, something he was at least average at.

He had put his mother’s house for sale and when someone actually bought it he felt slightly betrayed, as if he could have kept this last tiny piece of her. He had placed the money on his savings account so he wouldn’t have to deal with it anymore or the heaviness it brought to his shoulders. It was his last hope in case things went south.

They performed as the opening act to a band at a festival nearby so the company could see them live, and Soonyoung had nearly broken down when he saw annoyance on some faces in the crowd, others with their heads bobbing out of sheer boredom as they waited for the main act, and then all of them lighting up with _It Was You_. And Soonyoung kept hearing: one-hit-wonder. Another pretty boy band. Talentless.

“It’s normal people aren’t very used to you guys here,” Seungcheol told them afterwards. “But I got shivers when everyone started singing along.”

“We need one more hit like that,” Jihoon said, like he was bargaining with himself. “One more.”

Soonyoung traded the weed and coke for the dexies and mephedrone, and he spent night after night going out, having sex, writing songs, performing, and then when he got tired of it he took sleeping tablets and fell into a sleep so deep he couldn’t feel his mouth in the morning. It made him feel giddy, as if he had discovered the secret to Junhui’s happiness in prescription bottles.

“Look,” Jihoon told him mid-February, one month before they were scheduled to leave to London. Soonyoung looked at the pack of cigarettes he was holding, Soonyoung’s own handwriting scribbled over Jihoon’s. _2/day_. “I don’t think I’m gonna need this anymore. Keep it for me when we go out, okay?”

Soonyoung took the pack, stared at it. Why was he being trusted with this? He glanced back at Jihoon who was smiling, uncertain. Soonyoung found himself wishing he hadn’t taken those benzos before, because he wanted to reach out and kiss Jihoon, but he couldn’t because his limbs were so, so heavy, that all he felt like doing was going to sleep.

“What a hypocrite,” he whispered to himself at night, holding the pack of cigarettes to his lips. “I’m so sorry, Jihoon.”

Throughout the night he slept and dreamt of nothing, but when he woke up, the pack sliding from his limp hand, he cried and cried like he had jolted up from a nightmare he couldn’t remember.

-

In November Soonyoung got off the pills and had felt so terrible he could barely cope. He had never thought he would get dependent. He didn’t get dependent on cigarettes, or weed, or cocaine, or LSD when he had finally tried it with Jihoon, both of them leaning against each other and staring at the wall until the weird shapes fizzed out and Jihoon had left to bed. But he got addicted to the pills, how they made him feel, how they allowed him to control himself. These and he’d be agitated and restless and these and he’d be relaxed and asleep.

He called Seokmin and Seungkwan sometimes, just to hear familiar sounds. Jihoon talked to them too, sat right next to Soonyoung like he was afraid of leaving him alone. If only things had turned out different they could be spending holidays together and Soonyoung could have gotten a half-decent job and kept Jihoon stored in his photo albums. He could be at home with a large puppy and someone kind enough to endure his half-heart.

He was reminded of his mother more and more often, and of the hollowness spreading out where her presence once was. He was reminded of Jihoon telling him he loved him when he hadn’t, of Wonwoo’s anxiety attacks mid-April, of Junhui’s glee dissipating in the cold London weather, of their album still unfinished. He was reminded of his birthday spent faking smiles because he was so exhausted he could barely keep his eyes open, of Junhui’s and Wonwoo’s being so close to his but him forgetting both of them until someone had reminded him, shame and distress overcoming him. Was he forgetting dates? Memories? Plans?

So when Jihoon’s birthday came along, he stopped. Joshua was right there when he decided to do it and maybe, if Soonyoung was being honest with himself, he had been one of the reasons for him to quit.

“Did I introduce you guys to Jessica?” Joshua asked them after him and Jihoon had exchanged nice pleasantries with each other, both surprised at meeting the other at such an odd place. “My dad owns chains in both the States and Europe, and we come here sometimes,” he had explained and Jihoon had nodded and smiled.

But he wasn’t smiling now. Jessica nodded at them, coy at being the centre of attention for the few seconds it took Joshua to beckon her towards them. She was blond and skinny, and next to Joshua, with his handsome smile and relaxed pose, they looked like the picture perfect couple. But Soonyoung knew they weren’t, and so did Wonwoo and Junhui. So did Jihoon.

“I can’t believe we didn’t notice the pub was called _Moonwalker_ ,” Junhui bemoaned as they left. “We should have known.”

Jihoon didn’t speak. He looked down, at his feet, dragging across the pavement, at the last autumn leaves crumbling underneath them. Joshua hadn’t looked troubled in the least, had just excused himself, said “It was nice to see you, Jihoonie,” and left with Jessica’s hand clasped in his.

They were all tipsy, but not tipsy enough to have left this early. Yet they had, and Soonyoung thought of how truly wonderful it was that they had met each other, that they had slotted into their roles perfectly and complemented each other just as well. He was grateful they hadn’t needed to add or drop anyone, that they were just there, a constant that worked like a miracle.

“Sorry, guys,” Jihoon had muttered in the cab. “I shouldn’t have reacted like that.”

He didn’t even question how Wonwoo and Junhui knew, didn’t elaborate on that vague apology.

“It’s okay,” Wonwoo said. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

This time when Jihoon crawled into Soonyoung’s bed that night he was the one who held onto Soonyoung, face hidden on his chest. Soonyoung teetered on the edge of exhaustion and sleep, but he couldn’t close his eyes without jolting. He wanted to ask Jihoon to let him reach into his drawer and grab some sleeping aid, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t do anything but lie still with his eyes open.

“I know,” Soonyoung whispered, stroking the back of Jihoon’s head long after he had stopped crying and had managed to fall asleep. “I know how you feel.”

After Jihoon woke up and left, slowly and quietly because he thought Soonyoung was still asleep, Soonyoung spent a long time staring at his drawer. He couldn’t bring himself to throw them away. What if he needed them, either for his insomnia or to help him through long nights of performing? He thought about taping them, like Jihoon’s cigarettes, but that felt silly.

He managed to get through the day by not bringing them along with him, but was haunted instead by these terrible mood swings that had Wonwoo raise a concerned brow at him and Jihoon stare at him wordlessly.

“I won’t do it again,” Jihoon told him when they were alone, at the restaurant’s bathroom. The restaurant was a spacious one, with red-bricked walls and italian cuisine as the specialty, and despite loving the food Soonyoung had almost thrown up the pasta sloshing in his stomach. Jihoon had pulled him up by his elbow and taken him to the bathroom. “You don’t need to be this angry.”

“It’s not that,” Soonyoung said. “It’s the pills. They’re fucking with my head.”

Jihoon crossed his arms. Tufts of his hair disappeared in the artificial white light, and he was so pale that he almost blended in with the whole background. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“What, after I told you to quit smoking? And I can’t even do this by myself?”

Jihoon shook his head, cleaning his hands on the towel. “You don’t need to do it by yourself.”

“Fuck do you know? You do everything by yourself,” Soonyoung jabbed back. “Fuck. Sorry.”

Jihoon snorted. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve had worse.”

Soonyoung’s lips curled up as he lifted his head from its bent position on the sink, bracketed between his arms. He pulled his sleeves down over his bare forearms and heaved out a long sigh. “I’m better now.”

“Do you think having me sleep with you helps?”

Soonyoung’s heart kicked against his chest, surprised, but Jihoon’s expression was serious, the one he used when they were recording and he’d shout commands over the microphone to the recording booth.

“Why would it?”

“You didn’t move a muscle last night. I would have felt it.”

Soonyoung swallowed. Suddenly, he found himself wishing he had thrown up his meal after all. “I didn’t because you were half on top of me, you dumbass.”

“That’s my point.”

Soonyoung gripped the edge of the sink until his knuckles turned bony white. “You can’t possibly be serious. You know I-” he stopped.

“You what?” Jihoon asked, raising his voice slightly as he stepped closer to Soonyoung.

“I’m…” Soonyoung looked down at Jihoon, at his unwavering eyes. His glasses were hooked on his coat pocket where he had placed them so he could wash his face, and Soonyoung wished he could make the Jihoon in front of him less nitid, less real. “You know.”

“You’re what?” Jihoon’s hand slid over to cover his and Soonyoung’s tension released from his fist.

“You know, this is a public restroom,” Soonyoung reminded him. “I’m not going to say it out loud.”

“I would like you to,” Jihoon said, fingers stroking the back of Soonyoung’s hand. Distantly, Soonyoung noticed the touch burned him, Jihoon’s fingertips searing on top of his cool skin.

“What do you mean?” The strain of avoiding Jihoon’s gaze tired him, hooked his neck and pulled him backwards to safe land for a few blissful seconds. His half-distraction allowed him to ignore the heat spreading across his hand, as if only the smell of ashened flesh would be able to stir him out of his stupor.

Jihoon’s hand tightened its grip on him, beckoning his attention. “You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t,” Soonyoung retorted, childishly. “Let me go.”

“No,” Jihoon refused. “Look at me, Soonyoung.”

Soonyoung did, and then remembered why he hadn’t before. Jihoon was close, so close Soonyoung could see every tiny imperfection on his fair skin, the mole right next to his left eye, the darkness of his pupils as he squinted at him. He leaned in unconsciously, the impatient claw on his stomach twisting and turning as he did so.

“You’re impossible,” Soonyoung said and Jihoon smiled.

“Am I?”

Soonyoung’s eyelids fluttered, refusing to slip entirely shut as he made note of a freckle here or a small shaving scar there, of Jihoon’s upper eyelashes meeting the bottom row. He breathed in and inhaled Jihoon's scent - his moisturizer was fresh and powdery, his cologne stale and sweet.

The door swung open. Jihoon lurched backwards, removing his hand from Soonyoung’s as his eyes shot wide open. The door slam had almost sounded like a bullet shot from how abrupt and terrifying it had been, but Soonyoung managed to maintain his composure in spite of his throbbing heart.

“You’re alright?” Seungcheol asked, frowning. At what, Soonyoung wasn’t sure. “You’ve been there for a long time.”

“Just waiting to see if the bile would come back up, but he seems to be better now,” Jihoon lied, lips stretching into a thin smile. “We better get going.”

After the initial shock wore off Soonyoung felt his cheeks growing hot - out of embarrassment, out of anger. Jihoon didn’t even glance at him as he left the bathroom and Soonyoung fixed a betrayed gaze on him throughout the rest of the meal.

He hadn’t even remembered Jihoon’s proposal until he showed up to his room that night, stripped down to his pajama shorts and white undershirt. He stared without a word as Jihoon walked up to the edge of the bed, sat down, placed his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. The room seemed so much smaller with two of them in it, adorned merely with a small shelf containing Soonyoung’s books and records and a desk with an unplugged lamp.

Soonyoung reached out and splayed his hand on Jihoon’s tense back, felt the muscles unwind under his touch. He curled his index finger and ran it up and down some of the notches of Jihoon’s spine until he finally sighed and got under the covers. Soonyoung didn’t have the heart to tell him he was about to take a pill (just a single pill, he had promised himself, just one), so he let it roll from his fingers to the carpet and wrapped his arms around Jihoon instead.

“Does this bother you?” Soonyoung wondered out loud.

“Yes,” Jihoon admitted. “It always has.”

“Why?”

Jihoon said nothing for a while, as if he was considering. Then, “Because it’s you.”

Soonyoung snorted against his shoulder. “Didn’t take you for a sap.”

“You really don’t notice much around you, do you?”

“Fuck off, Lee.”

Jihoon turned around. “Is it more comfortable if we top and tail?”

“I don’t care. As long as you keep your smelly feet off my face,” Soonyoung said.

“I’m trying to help you here,” Jihoon pointed out, shoving Soonyoung’s shoulder. Soonyoung caught his elbow and drew him closer, making Jihoon yelp as he nearly tumbled on top of him. “Asshole,” he hissed, kicking at Soonyoung’s leg. “Let me fucking sleep.”

“Oh, you want to sleep?” Soonyoung mocked Jihoon’s whine, jabbing his fingers right below his ribs. Jihoon huffed and grabbed his arm, twisting his wrist. “Fuck, fuck, ow.”

“Do you want to die?” Jihoon asked, letting out a breath of a laughter. “Such bravery for such a weak body.”

Soonyoung’s mind went blank, a superficial anger entangled with the playful atmosphere clouding it, and he freed his wrist, using his forearm to pin Jihoon onto the bed and climb on top of him. Jihoon pushed him off and Soonyoung didn’t even think about the noise they were making as they shuffled the sheets with a shove or landed their limbs so heavily that the bed creaked.

“Is your plan to tire me to sleep?” Soonyoung asked, pausing to catch his breath as Jihoon held him down with one hand on his shoulder and kept the other by his arm on the mattress.

“You got it,” Jihoon said, his chest rising and falling. His voice had a certain edge to it that Soonyoung was only used to hearing on stage. “That’s precisely it.”

Then there was silence, a silence long enough for Soonyoung’s decency to come rushing back to him, taking the foreground of his thoughts. Soonyoung wanted to tackle Jihoon again, but he felt too heavy and weak, so he simply caught Jihoon’s wrist in his hand and pried it off gently.

“We should sleep, then,” Soonyoung said.

“Soonyoung.”

There it was again. His voice being whispered like a contained thought accidentally brought to life, a barely audible request, as soft as a forgotten leaf floating down on a windless day. Jihoon pressed his lips together afterwards, forcing them into a line so he wouldn’t speak anymore, his eyes wide and searching.

“We should sleep, shouldn’t we?” Soonyoung repeated, stroking the side of Jihoon’s head. “Before we both do something we regret.”

Jihoon nodded. “Okay,” and after another silence, he moved to his side of the bed. “Sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”

“Joshua did- Or more like didn’t,” Soonyoung said. Jihoon’s mouth parted in horror and he smacked him in the chest. “Jeez, am I not sore enough already? Gonna give me a beating in my own bed.”

“You deserve it,” Jihoon said, turning his back to Soonyoung.

“Hey, c’mon. I didn’t mean it.”

Soonyoung pressed his forehead to Jihoon’s back, the jutting of his shoulder blade solid and warm. His hand gripped Jihoon’s hip bone and Soonyoung wondered when he had gotten this skinny. Jihoon’s body was such a mystery to him - he could not think about it, he could not touch it. He felt wrong doing so in the shadows.

“Yewon is very beautiful, don’t you think so?”

“Yes,” Soonyoung said. “Very efficient too.”

“I was thinking of asking her out.”

Soonyoung rested his mouth on Jihoon’s shoulder, dampening the spot on his cotton shirt that smelled of heat and lavender. Jihoon shivered slightly and Soonyoung wanted to feel the raised bumps on his skin, the thin hairs on his arms feather-light across Soonyoung’s skin. Just that touch would burn him, sear his flesh through and through, he was certain of it.

“Do it, then,” Soonyoung muttered right to Jihoon’s back. His thumb slid under Jihoon’s shirt and he drew small circles on his hip. “She’s a nice girl. Just like Jessica.”

Jihoon turned around, eyes glistening in the dark with held back tears. Soonyoung lifted his arm and then landed his hand on the same place, on the other side, moving it to Jihoon's lower back.

“Why does this not bother you?” Jihoon asked quietly. “Being like this- Wanting this?”

“I don’t know,” Soonyoung said. “But if you want to ask her tomorrow you should hurry up and catch your chance.”

“You’re so full of yourself,” Jihoon said. “You didn’t even say it in the bathroom.”

“What? That I fancy you?” Soonyoung teased, dragging a finger down Jihoon’s spine. “That I’m in love with you?” Jihoon flicked his forehead at that and Soonyoung gasped in surprise. “What the hell?”

“Don’t be so blunt,” Jihoon was reddening now, the flush on his cheeks contrasting with his fair complexion even in the dark. “It’s embarrassing.”

“I thought-“ Soonyoung started, but stopped once Jihoon’s hand came to rest on his neck. “You’re wrong, you know? You don’t really want this.”

“I don't care. I’m so lonely, Soonyoung. Aren’t you lonely too?”

Soonyoung blinked dazedly, so distracted by Jihoon’s steady hand and his mouth moving that his words didn’t process immediately. “What?”

“I’m fucking tired of dancing around this,” Jihoon’s fingertips pressed against Soonyoung’s neck as if to remind him his hand was still there. “Do you want me or not?”

It sounded like a challenge, almost. Soonyoung knew they would have kissed in that bathroom if Seungcheol hadn’t walked in, knew they would kiss now. It physically pained him to think about it.

“What is it with you and confusing the living hell out of me?”

“Don’t answer my question with a question.”

“I’ll answer it better, then,” Soonyoung said and cupped Jihoon’s chin with his hand.

Jihoon’s lips were pressed tightly together when Soonyoung met them. His hand wrapped around Soonyoung’s wrist and finally Jihoon parted his mouth slightly, trapping Soonyoung’s lower lip and sweetly pulling it towards him. Soonyoung could barely feel his body anymore. All his sensations were turned into a shadow of what they were in his head and his whole skin tingled with numbness. Even his lips were ripped apart from him.

“You taste like cigarettes,“ he said. Jihoon kissed the corner of his mouth.

“I'm trying not to.”

Soonyoung chuckled. “You’re gonna wipe your mouth again?”

“I might punch you again if you don’t shut up,” Jihoon said.

“Who knew you had a soft side?” Soonyoung teased, tracing the side of Jihoon’s neck with his finger. He didn’t know he could have so many nerves on his hands.

He wondered if Jihoon felt his stomach crushed by his ribs when he breathed as well. They touched each other like they weren’t sure what their limbs were supposed to do and their faces wavered between uncertainty and giddiness. This is the love they pen down in timeless sonnets, Soonyoung thought. He was never much of a literature guy, but even he could see the appeal of starry-eyes and white-petal skin through his murky judgement, of all the countless clichés he could think of and more.

“I don’t remember telling you to stop,” Jihoon said.

“Of course, your majesty,” Soonyoung dropped his grip to Jihoon’s shoulder and made him open his mouth for him.

Jihoon’s fingertips skittered over his bicep and Soonyoung could feel the heat coiling up in his groin, the warmth blooming from the bottom of his stomach to his whole body. Yet he couldn’t stop kissing Jihoon, not after being deprived of it for so long, so he just slid his hand past Jihoon’s shirt, up his back, down to the hem of his boxer shorts.

For a second Soonyoung couldn’t help but imagine himself as Joshua, gently and primly laying down on the bed waiting for Jihoon to fuck him. He shrugged the feeling away by pulling Jihoon closer and then promptly proceeding to bruise him all over his shoulders and clavicles with his mouth.

“That’s going to be a pain to hide,” Jihoon whined and Soonyoung sunk his teeth right where flesh dipped into bone. “Careful.”

“Sorry,” Soonyoung said, even though he could feel his restraint flaking bit by bit. “Did you know your body’s annoying as hell?”

“What?”

“You never work out, yet you still look like this,” Soonyoung pressed his hand on Jihoon’s stomach for emphasis, the solidity of it coming more as a surprise than he had expected.

“Look like what?” Jihoon edged on, rubbing his thumb on Soonyoung’s jaw. “You’re going to have to outdo yourself. I’ve had someone call me a divinity that soars above the heavens themselves before.”

“I can’t outdo that.”

Jihoon snorted. “Good. Please don’t.”

Soonyoung dug his nails gently into Jihoon’s side. It was beautiful there, in that dark room with the sheets thrown back, both of them breathing like they had just finished wrestling. Jihoon’s pale skin was shrouded underneath a blue as tender as a bruise, his curls perfectly still against the white pillow in a bronze gleam. Soonyoung doubted he could feel this hunger for anyone else, that his ribs would expand with the crumbs of someone else's love. He could eat Jihoon whole and still not be satisfied.

Jihoon arched his neck, chin raised as he peered down at Soonyoung with hooded eyes. "What's wrong?" He asked. His mouth quirked slightly, a gesture of innocent puzzlement and mischievous challenging.

Soonyoung pulled him down by his hips with one firm tug and felt his toes curling when Jihoon’s bulge pressed against his own. It was odd to think that after getting so many embarrassing hard-ons because of Jihoon (especially on stage, where everybody’s eyes were on him) Soonyoung could produce the same effect on him. He lost count of how many times he had to picture Jihoon - fingernail sucked in between his teeth, flushed pink and shirt soaked, eyes intent on Soonyoung while he spoke - so he could come on command when someone told him to. And now Jihoon was bucking up against him, rolling his hips as slowly as his self-restraint would allow him, and Soonyoung could just feel his thighs trembling from anticipation.

Jihoon clung to him, hands curled tightly on Soonyoung’s shirt, want and impatience etched to his features. In spite of that, Soonyoung marvelled at how pliant Jihoon got when he pulled his pants and underwear down so Soonyoung could wrap his hand around his dick. Jihoon didn’t push him away, didn’t lean back from his touch and his kiss. It felt like the universe was at Soonyoung’s feet.

“Please,” Jihoon muttered, running his hands through Soonyoung’s hair as the latter worked him up with his hand. The shakiness and raspiness of his voice went straight to Soonyoung’s dick and then to his ego-boosted head.

“If you ask so nicely,” Soonyoung said and started trailing down Jihoon’s neck, to the wisps of hair on his stomach and inner thighs. Sometimes he forgot Jihoon’s body wasn’t just all the smooth pearly skin he showed on tv and Soonyoung’s ears thrummed with hot blood as he got to touch these hidden parts of him.

Soonyoung sucked him off better than he had anyone before, eager to please and nearly delirious with every breath Jihoon held back and every tug at his scalp. _Quiet, quiet_ , he could imagine Jihoon telling himself, so Soonyoung would twist his hand faster and slacken his jaw to move further down before revelling in the way Jihoon’s back arched or how his head hit the pillow with a dull thud when it fell back into the mattress.

“Oh my god,” Jihoon groaned, grabbing Soonyoung’s chin briskly to pull him away and using his own hand to send himself over the edge. He waited a few seconds to regain his breath, panting way too loudly in the otherwise quiet room. “Shit. Sorry. C’mere.”

Soonyoung grimaced when Jihoon wiped his hand on his shirt, then forgot all about it as soon as that hand was wrapped tightly around his cock. If anything Soonyoung came even more absurdly fast than Jihoon. Like they were still in that room, barely pushing past adolescence, their bodies pulsing with maddening desire. Jihoon bit his earlobe, sucked on it and Soonyoung came with Jihoon’s hand barely moving.

They wiped themselves as best as they could to their sheets and their clothes, lying on their side to face each other breathlessly. Jihoon smiled, placing his hand on Soonyoung’s chest, and Soonyoung could barely contain his dick from twitching with interest again. Instead, he brought his hand over Jihoon’s, fingers slotting between Jihoon’s and feeling his own heartbeat drumming against his fingertips.

“That was terrible,” Jihoon chuckled, face half-hidden on his pillow. “I really hope no one heard that.”

“We have time to practice,” Soonyoung said, raising his eyebrows suggestively. “Room for improvement. I could fuck you. Or you could fuck me.”

Jihoon’s blunt fingernails dug into Soonyoung’s shirt, his toes brushing up against Soonyoung’s shin. “I’d like that.”

“Yeah?” Soonyoung leaned in for another kiss, but this time Jihoon halted him by covering Soonyoung’s mouth with his hand.

“Maybe after you brush your teeth.”

Soonyoung laughed and moved back after planting a kiss on Jihoon’s sticky palm. “Fair.”

He reckoned he could wait a bit longer.


	3. life passes you by / don't be wasting your time on your own

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> final chapter babie. there's still an epilogue on the way. thanks to everyone for your lovely comments and to choco for forcing me to post!
> 
> side note, i wrote this before pristin disbanded so i'm sorry if that part makes you sad. fuck pledis lives.

“Are you sure about this?” Wonwoo asked, concerned evident in his voice.

“Of course I’m sure,” Soonyoung promptly replied. “Why wouldn’t I be sure?”

“Well, we could change places. You aren’t the most… clear-headed person when you’re around Jihoon,” Wonwoo said.

Soonyoung’s stomach sunk suddenly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know. You get all defensive like that,” Wonwoo gestured at him. “Get a grip or whatever they say.”

“Break a leg, I think is the expression you’re looking for, sweetheart,” Junhui piped in, barely lifting his eyes from the newspaper.

“Exactly. Thanks, Jun.”

Soonyoung opened his mouth, then closed it again when Jihoon entered the room. He was wearing a perfectly tailored black suit, not unlike Soonyoung’s own, the long coat tails flowing behind him as he walked. Jihoon’s nipples perked from underneath his white shirt and his bowtie was as close to his neck as possible for him not to choke. He thought that maybe Wonwoo was right, but then again when wasn't he?

“Ready?” Jihoon asked, taking off his glasses.

“Yeah,” Soonyoung answered, wiping his palms on his thighs and getting up from the couch. “Let’s go.”

Jihoon raised a skeptical eyebrow at him and his conflicted expression remained even as the makeup artists set his face with powder.

“What’s with that face? Got a secret to keep, Lee?” Soonyoung asked him right to his ear while the staff fixed the set with some finishing touches.

“Don’t start,” Jihoon whispered back. “You look… good.”

Soonyoung tried not to look startled, but the heat creeping under his collar was probably turning his cheeks beet red. “Oh. Are you affected?”

“Shut up,” Jihoon said, not denying it. He slipped his finger on the last button hole of Soonyoung’s jacket and looked up. “Don't fuck this up.”

“How would I even do that?” Soonyoung said, patting Jihoon’s shoulder. Jihoon swatted his hand away and Soonyoung smirked. “I hope you remember your lines.”

The shoot took longer than he expected. They had never filmed anything besides a couple of music videos and those had filming usually spaced out over the period of a weekend. But this was a few hours shoot, and Soonyoung could barely feel his calves by take thirty-four.

“C’mon, Jihoon, be more convincing,” the director called out. He was younger than Soonyoung had expected, probably in his early thirties, and had been patient throughout the whole thing even if some of the staff had already begun to groan out of frustration.

By take forty-two the director called Jihoon aside and, after taking so long it gave enough time for Soonyoung to remember his name was Jeonghan and then half-compose a song about how jealousy made his toes curl in that moment, he dismissed everyone. Soonyoung stared at the scene with his heart in his hands, thinking they had fucked up so much they wouldn’t be allowed to complete the project. Jeonghan walked towards him with a smile.

“It’ll just be me, okay? Pretend I’m not there.”

Soonyoung tilted his head as he went back behind his camera. Wonwoo and Junhui had probably finished their own shooting ages ago.

“What’s going on?” He asked Jihoon when he walked back into place, right in front of him.

“Stage fright,” Jihoon said, making Soonyoung’s lips quirk up. 

"It's just a paycheck, Jihoonie."

The scene was easy: Jihoon would walk up to him to ask him for advice on how to get some girl at the party they were attending (Soonyoung had never attended a ball before, but alas) and Soonyoung would present him with the latest _amour pour l’homme_ perfume, or whatever. Yet Jihoon had always stumbled over his lines, not to break into laughter, but truly choking up on his words with his eyes widened like a deer stuck in the headlights.

Finally, however, they got through the scene on take forty-five, and Jihoon was so ecstatic he grabbed Soonyoung’s hands and swung their arms around in an improv dance. He would buy a thousand of those spice-scented perfume bottles if it meant Jihoon would show him that smile every time.

“Wait,” Jeonghan’s voice cut through Soonyoung’s tunnel vision suddenly and he snapped out of it. Jihoon looked crestfallen. “No, no, don’t make that face, dear. It was perfect. But could you do what you were doing right there at the end?”

“Dancing?” Jihoon asked, bemused.

“Yes. So, Soonyoung could say ‘I could show you some moves to dazzle as well’ and you’d break into a waltz and laugh. Think _Brideshead Revisited_ ," Jeonghan said, fixing the boom mic. "It’ll make the ad lighter-toned. Wonwoo and Junhui did something similar, too, but I didn't want to push my luck. You look fine now, though.”

“I thought the whole point was to be all fake-deep about it,” Soonyoung said and Jeonghan glared at him. “Fine, alright. C’mere, Jihoonie.”

“Like hell I’m agreeing to this,” Jihoon complained. “I’d rather cut my leg off.”

“Splendid idea. After we get our take,” Jeonghan walked back to his place behind the camera and poised the clapperboard in front of it. “Take forty-six. Action.”

“I could teach you some steps as well, if you’d like,” Soonyoung eased off his tongue quickly, to get it out of the way.

Jihoon looked up apprehensively at him. “Okay. Be my girl, then.”

Soonyoung wanted to burst out laughing at that, but managed to keep his composure as Jihoon wrapped his arm around his waist and clasped Soonyoung’s hand. _Laugh_ , he remembered Jeonghan saying, but he just wanted to eat Jihoon whole then. Jihoon’s ears burned up the way they did when he got embarrassed and his eyes were everywhere but on Soonyoung’s face.

“Cut!” Jeonghan shouted, enthusiastic. “That’s a wrap, guys. Good job!”

They both thanked him profusely and Soonyoung complained constantly about how late it was on the way back as Jihoon pretended to listen to him. Their fingers intertwined on the cab as they returned to the residence, Soonyoung’s thumb rubbing the back of Jihoon’s hand. Jihoon sighed, allowing himself to squeeze Soonyoung’s fingers between his own before the cab driver looked at them from the rearview mirror to ask where to turn and Jihoon’s hand slipped away from Soonyoung’s with ease.

Soonyoung stared at his empty hand, then back at Jihoon giving instructions. The driver focused back on the road and Soonyoung took the opportunity to plant a kiss on Jihoon’s neck. Jihoon jumped, shoving Soonyoung away by the shoulder lest he try something like that again. So Soonyoung simply let his hand rest on Jihoon’s thigh and slip to the inner seam of his jeans. Jihoon always did that when he got thoughtful, scratching the fabric of the jeans of whichever band member was next to him at the time - but that was innocent and Soonyoung’s intentions were most definitely not.

Ever since that night they had tiptoed around each other in public. Jihoon had even become stricter with him during recordings and performance practice. But then they would be alone while Soonyoung finished up the layering riffs and when he was done Jihoon would pull him down towards him and Soonyoung would straddle him to kiss him senseless or when it got too overwhelming Soonyoung would simply shove Jihoon into an empty storage room or bathroom stall and hold his hand to Jihoon’s mouth so he wouldn’t make too much noise.

It helped with the loneliness. Although Jihoon wasn’t his he was still there, giving himself up to Soonyoung, and that was enough. He didn’t self-medicate anymore unless he was feeling particularly antsy. It was enough even as they stumbled out of the taxi and Jihoon paid the driver only to walk inside the residence without a word, not even checking whether Soonyoung was following him.

“I’m going to my room tonight, okay?” Jihoon said once they reached Soonyoung’s room. Soonyoung nodded a little numbly. “You- You looked good today.”

Soonyoung's heartbeat stuttered. "You did, too."

"I'm..." Jihoon looked like he wanted to say something. His teeth clenched as he held it back. "Goodnight, Soonyoung."

Jihoon pulled Soonyoung down by his collar and pressed his lips to his cheek, featherlight. _Oh_ , Soonyoung thought as Jihoon pulled back slowly. Okay. That was new. They had never really done the whole goodbye kissing routine before. If Soonyoung was being honest his knees felt a bit wobbly, a bit unstable just from that demonstration of affection.

"Don't go," Soonyoung said, a little tired and careless. Jihoon frowned at him, but didn't make any real effort to leave. "Let's go buy some popcorn."

"Popcorn?" Jihoon asked, a hint of a smile starting to form on his face.

"Yeah. I'm craving some."

Which is how they ended up at a drug store right in front of their residence buying popcorn and coke while Jihoon sat inside the shopping cart under the pretense of being drunk without having touched a single drop of alcohol that night. He pulled his hat down as the cashier handed Soonyoung his bags without recognition flickering on her face. As they left both of them knew they were too spent to endure watching a movie and decided to eat on the sidewalk of the parking lot instead. Soonyoung rolled the cart and hopped his feet onto it, let it slide across the empty lot. Jihoon tilted his head back and Soonyoung wasn't sure if it was to smile at him, since he was too focused on not hitting anything in the dark.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" Soonyoung asked, finally drawing to a halt. Jihoon clambered off shakily as Soonyoung held him by his waist and laughed against his ear when the cart crashed against a lamp post. Soonyoung sighed.

"Yeah. I'm having fun," Jihoon said.

They sat down and Jihoon munched down on the popcorns as he lay his head on Soonyoung's lap. He didn't know why Jihoon loved that position so much. He just remembered Jihoon snuggling his head on his thighs and offering him popcorn with a strange expression on his face. It seemed guarded, pensive almost. Soonyoung pressed his thumb between Jihoon's eyebrows.

"You look sad, though."

"I'm not."

Soonyoung wrapped his mouth around a piece of popcorn and pretended he hadn't meant to catch Jihoon's fingers too. "Is it about the shoot?"

"Don't be stupid. It's just an advertisement. I'm not a model," Jihoon said.

Soonyoung hummed. "Is it so dark that you're comfortable lying like this with me in public?"

Jihoon raised an eyebrow at him. "What's the big deal? It's not like I'm sucking your dick."

"Sadly."

"Get over it," Jihoon snorted. "Besides, no one cares about us here. We're just... If we had another big hit we wouldn't need to be doing ads for second-rate perfume brands."

"Muhammad Ali did a bug spray commercial. We're doing okay. I'd even say perfume commercials are fancy," Soonyoung said.

Jihoon shook his head. "You don't get it, do you?"

"Get what?" Soonyoung stuffed a handful of popcorn into his mouth. He didn't like where the conversation was headed.

"We're going to be forgotten like this. If our new record doesn't do any good, then what?" Jihoon pressed the coke to his forehead even though it was cold outside and the wind was biting at their skin.

"I just care that our fans like it. The ones who have been there the longest and who actually like us and what we do. Not some radio executive," Soonyoung said. "But if it's meant to be, it will happen. We're talented enough to pull it off."

"You're so hopeful," Jihoon smiled. "I love that about you."

Soonyoung tried to breathe through his mouth so Jihoon wouldn't notice his chest becoming still. It wasn't exactly a confession, but it was so genuine and fond that it opened Soonyoung's wound all anew. Carefully, he took some weed out of his pocket with shaky fingers and rolled it up on top of Jihoon's chest.

"I thought you said we should be healthy," Jihoon said.

"I know," Soonyoung agreed, swiping Jihoon's jacket clean. "It's medicinal. Open your mouth."

Jihoon took off his hat and complied, placing it strategically in front of them as Soonyoung blew the smoke into Jihoon's mouth. He knew Jihoon wasn't too fond of weed, not like Wonwoo, but he took the blunt anyway and let Soonyoung kiss him after a drag.

"I don't think the hat will help us much like this," Soonyoung commented, taking the blunt back and wiping the corner of his mouth.

"Let's go home. We can microwave the popcorn so they'll be warm."

Soonyoung laughed. "Are you high already?"

Jihoon hit his chest, but laughed along. "I want to write something fucking huge, you know? Something like... _Hallelujah_. _American Pie_. Something that means I don't have to write anymore, because I can't top it."

"You would still write either way," Soonyoung pointed out.

"Without a doubt," Jihoon said.

Jihoon drank coke, but Soonyoung raided the fridge for some _Heineken_ and sat down next to Jihoon in his room, drinking like he was trying to forget something he wasn't aware of. Jihoon stared at him wearily, kept his mouth shut until he got a pen and paper and a guitar. They couldn't make too much noise, since Junhui and Wonwoo were sleeping in the same floor, but they still tried a few chords, sang a few lines. Jihoon had his glasses on so he could read and write down whatever they came up with in their 2 a.m. haze.

"What about that thing we wrote that one time?" Jihoon tried. " _The clocks are ticking on-_ "

"No," Soonyoung said. "It sounded so... forced."

Jihoon's face twisted in a grimace. "What do you mean?"

"It was just... I don't know how to explain it. It didn't sound like a song you would write."

"Yeah, because we wrote the verses together. Right? It should be a perfect combination. You. Me."

Soonyoung didn't know what to say to that. He nicked the label of his beer bottle and bit the inside of his cheek.

"Soonyoung."

"Why not Jun? Or why not Wonwoo? They're just as good as me at this. None of us are near you, anyway."

"Because..." Jihoon trailed off. "You have such a private side to yourself. I want to see you like that. When you're not fooling around on the tour bus or trying to flirt with me for fun. What are you thinking then? Why are all the lyrics you give me just another mask?"

Soonyoung wasn't drunk enough for this conversation. He felt stunned and hurt and all the awful feelings inside him snowballed into an angry tangle of emotions. He wanted to accuse Jihoon of something, but he wasn't sure what - assuming things? Making Soonyoung feel stupid and weak and open to any blow that came his way?

"You don't write about yourself, either. What are _you_ thinking? That you love some girl and want to marry her in some tiny church just off the road?"

"That's actually a really good line," Jihoon said, writing it down on his notebook. Soonyoung huffed, annoyed. "Don't give me that. Let's just write for us this time, okay? Don't think about anyone else."

"Jihoon," Soonyoung warned. "You think I haven't written about my feelings before? When it's genuine it just seems _so_ fake. I can't stand it."

The house creaked as it settled. Jihoon looked at him for so long that Soonyoung became aware of Jihoon's hair pointing outwards because of the hat he had been wearing and self-consciously combed his own hair with his hand. He wished Junhui and Wonwoo were there so he could hide and laugh with them and forget.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why does it feel fake?" Jihoon asked, genuinely curious.

"Because..." Soonyoung shook his head. "Because I get too overwhelmed. Because I can't write when it's about you."

Jihoon gently kicked his guitar away and tucked his feet under his thighs. "Try it for me."

"I'm a bit tipsy, now," Soonyoung tried to excuse himself.

"Even better."

Soonyoung was verging on exasperation. "You want me to spit out words?"

"Yes. You got it," and he was leaning ever so slightly, resting his hands in front of him. "Just think of it as an exercise. We're at the recording booth right now, ok? I'm over here, guiding you, and you're singing something that makes your voice tremble."

Soonyoung was getting hot under the collar. It was ridiculous, but Jihoon sounded so sexy when he was instructing him. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

"Go on," Jihoon encouraged him, just like he would during recording. Professional, detached. Not the time to get a hard-on for a band member.

"It's stupid. What I'm thinking about," Soonyoung said. Jihoon just continued waiting. "I- Ok. I wish it was dark so we could kiss each other."

He didn't sing it as much as he said it, but Jihoon still nodded encouragingly .

"And... If we were back home I'd be telling you to find another. Fuck. It sounds stupid to rhyme other with another, doesn't it?"

"Soonyoung," Jihoon said. Soonyoung hadn't noticed how much closer he had gotten. Inch by inch, like he was crawling towards Soonyoung.

" _But then I knew I would crawl back to you just the same_ ," he tried singing a bit now, whispering it in a soft melody. Jihoon placed his hand on Soonyoung's thigh. " _If you really want it I won't mind losing this game_." 

"That's good," Jihoon said. "Keep going."

" _I will_ \- fuck," Soonyoung cursed as Jihoon's hand settled on top of his bulge. He felt embarrassed, yet Jihoon looked anything but.

When they were shrouded in darkness, darkness became them. It made each touch simpler, each kiss a certainty, each affection plausible. Soonyoung wasn’t afraid because they were under the covers together and within that safety he was allowed to do as he pleased. Bite Jihoon’s hip bone hard, push his thigh over his shoulder. But there, with the lights on and Jihoon's searching face, it felt different. Light was intimate. Light meant that Jihoon couldn't pretend he was someone else, it made the room aglow with odd jaundice that tried to mimick the moon. It felt like a dream.

"Sing more with your chest voice. It sounds better when you're singing lower," Jihoon suggested, hand coming up to rest on Soonyoung's nape.

" _I won't be able to hold back if you keep doing that to me_ ," Soonyoung sang as a joke, deepening his voice, but Jihoon still looked up at him gravely. "I'm being serious."

"Kiss me and then think of something," Jihoon said.

Soonyoung didn't need to be told twice. He leaned down and tasted sugar and salt on Jihoon's tongue. He regretted the staleness of his own breath as Jihoon pulled away, expectantly.

" _God gave me you_ ," Soonyoung murmured and Jihoon smiled.

"Not a Christian Rock group."

" _So I'm thankful every day that I can see your face in Him_."

Jihoon's lips parted slightly, as if the words that had been about to tumble out got stuck on his tongue. Soonyoung's own tongue felt numb, too big in his mouth.

"You can't say things like that," Jihoon said. His eyes were wide, figuring something out on Soonyoung's face. "It's... fuck, Soonyoung." 

Soonyoung reached out to take Jihoon's glasses off. Jihoon blinked at him, gripped Soonyoung's waist until his fingers were digging into it. He looked troubled.

"Is that a good line?" Soonyoung asked.

"Yeah, but... we can't use it," Jihoon said. He impulsively stretched forward and Soonyoung's foot bumped against the table as he startled. The alarm clock rushed to the ground with a loud clang, but Soonyoung was only paying attention to Jihoon catching his lips one time and then another, and after that he was pratically on top of Soonyoung's lap, demanding and burning underneath his shirt. "Don't say shit like that."

"I knew you wouldn't-" Jihoon's mouth interrupted him. "Like it."

"You're a fucking asshole," Jihoon said, grinding down on Soonyoung but still managing to look in control, like what he was doing was decent and proper and not turning Soonyoung into complete mush at his hands. "Promise me we're gonna write the next big thing. That they're going to remember us."

"Don't be obsessive," Soonyoung chirped without any bite. Jihoon nuzzled his nose on his neck and for a moment stilled himself, like he was trying to hide from the world. It struck Soonyoung, then, that even though he had been craving to be seen for so long, he was still so terrified of it. "If you want to. We'll do it."

Jihoon wrapped his arms around Soonyoung. It was tender, but Soonyoung still felt his blood thrumming and the heat of his body prickling his skin. He didn't know what to do besides hug Jihoon back, didn't know if he was allowed more. Jihoon moved slowly away from his neck, his nose brushing against Soonyoung's cheek.

"Jihoon," a voice came from outside and Soonyoung realized the knocking he had been ignoring had been coming from the door. Jihoon jumped away so quickly that Soonyoung could barely register he wasn't on his lap anymore before Wonwoo was coming into the room. He quickly grabbed the guitar, set it on his lap to hide the bulge in his pants. "Can you guys not make such a ruckus? It's late."

"Yeah," Jihoon nodded without meeting Wonwoo's annoyed gaze. He had gotten up to his feet at some point. "Sorry about that."

"We were just writing," Soonyoung added.

Wonwoo shook his head and closed the door again. Jihoon looked down at Soonyoung, sobered up by the interruption. "We should go to bed."

"Okay," Soonyoung said.

"Separately."

Soonyoung tried not to look hurt. "Yeah, of course."

"Don't..." Jihoon started. He crouched down to pick up his alarm clock and shook it between his hands. "It's broken."

"Don't what?" 

Jihoon gave him an odd look. "Don't be too upset. About everything."

Soonyoung wondered what Jihoon meant as he walked slowly to his room, rubbing his eyes as if he was in a trance. Jihoon had looked at him like - And yet he was left with his own hand to calm himself down.

God, he wanted Jihoon right then, writhing beneath and above him, trying to keep quiet through the loud panting and bed creaks. He wanted Jihoon laughing when he made a corny joke, with his head thrown back and his knees up to his chest. He wanted Jihoon humming thoughtfully while stroking Soonyoung’s head as Soonyoung mouthed along his chest. He wanted to pull Jihoon’s ankle until he nearly fell off the bed and he wanted Jihoon to pull him along with him.

He wanted Jihoon when he forgot there was somebody else in the room and grabbed Soonyoung’s hands to dance. What did Jeonghan think they looked like? Soonyoung could almost imagine him and Jihoon dancing in that tiny box, Jeonghan peering at the two figures stuck repeating the same steps. One-two, one-two.

He wanted to never have woken up that day. He had never realized how happily one could die in ignorance, how mercifully. Wonwoo laughed too hard when Jihoon ducked his head to hide his flush and Junhui’s expression was too exaggerated. Soonyoung’s chest ached so much it felt like his heart had been replaced by a cement brick.

“I knew my speeches about you having to stop letting music take over your love life would work,” Wonwoo boasted, proud.

“You mean mine,” Junhui countered, crushing his cigarette butt on the ashtray. “Right, Jihoon?”

“It’s nothing serious yet,” Jihoon muttered. He was purposely avoiding meeting Soonyoung’s eye. “Don’t turn it into a big deal.”

“It is a big deal,” Soonyoung spoke up. He didn’t really want to, scared of the emotion in his voice, but he needed Jihoon to look at him. “You don’t really fall in love.”

Jihoon’s furrowed his eyebrows and then lowered his eyes as Wonwoo said, “She must be really special, uh?”

The whole room was silent. It had been a while since they had breakfast together in one of their rooms. They enjoyed doing it because it was cozy and there was some hidden delight in complaining about cleaning up afterwards. This time Jihoon had insisted they had it in his instead of the kitchen and Soonyoung had immediately been suspicious since he knew how self-conscious Jihoon got about his messy living conditions. He hated the way he knew just by how Jihoon greeted him, awkward and nervous, gaze somewhere over his shoulder, that something was wrong.

What struck him the most, however, was that Jihoon was wearing his favorite sweater - one of those terribly old-fashioned knitted woolen sweaters full of triangle shapes and horizontal stripes. White-purple-green. His thin-rimmed glasses slipped from his nose.

“I know it’s sudden, but we wanted to make it press-official. It seems they already know, anyway,” Jihoon said and Soonyoung recognized in that full, raw voice that rose from his chest the same voice he had fallen in love with. It got so much lower and quieter when Jihoon spoke rather than sung, so much more unguarded and candid.

“We’re here to support you, Jihoon,” Wonwoo assured him, patting the back of Jihoon’s neck. “We know you like your privacy.”

“Yeah,” Jihoon agreed, leaning forward.

Soonyoung didn’t know if it was because he was too quiet or too still, but Wonwoo and Junhui shared a look and promptly excused themselves from the room a few moments later. They probably thought he was upset Jihoon hadn’t told him. Or maybe they knew - he really hoped it wasn’t the latter. Joshua had already been a problem, but perhaps they had dismissed him as a one-time thing. There was no experimental phase once you tried something twice.

Soonyoung began to cry as soon as they closed the door. He didn’t know what had gotten into him, he only knew that he felt deeply bruised in every place that was tender and that his eyes burned of their own accord. His throat hurt from trying to hold back pitiful whines and loud sobs, his fists trembled on his thighs. Jihoon pressed his lips together and rubbed his own shoulder with his hand.

“I didn’t know how to tell you alone,” Jihoon started.

Soonyoung sniffed, pawing furiously at his treacherous eyes. “Am I a joke to you, Jihoon?”

“Of course not-“

“Because you tell me you love me and then you let me fall in love even deeper like a fucking idiot only to break my heart like this,” the words that spewed out of him were embarrassingly honest, but Soonyoung couldn’t control them. His entire skin was crawling with heat. “I thought- I don’t know what I thought. I don’t even know why I’m crying like an idiot. I knew, okay? I knew and still-“

“Seungcheol told me to do it,” Jihoon said, cutting Soonyoung off. “Well, I volunteered myself, but- he said it would be for the best. Stop crying.”

Soonyoung dampened his sleeves by wiping his face and took a deep breath. “He told you to date Yewon?”

“He told me to date any girl,” Jihoon admitted. “As long as it made me forget you,” he scrunched up his brows, a pitiful gesture filled with remorse. “This isn’t sustainable. You know that, don’t you?”

Soonyoung stared blankly ahead as his tears dried on his cheeks. “Then why did you let us do this?”

“I just wanted to know how it felt like. Just for a little bit,” Jihoon said, linking his fingers together and pressing them against each other tightly. “I wanted to know if I really felt something.”

“Wow,” Soonyoung chuckled dryly, shaking his head in disbelief. “And I thought you couldn’t get any more selfish. You’ll never see me as anything but your personal guinea pig will you? What was yesterday even about? A goodbye pity party?”

“Soonyoung-“

“No, I know, I’m hurting the band and blah, blah, keep my feelings in check, same old stuff. I got it. You be happy and get some good love songs out of it for us,” Soonyoung got up, knocked on the table with the knot of his finger and forced a smile. “Glad we can finally get this thing behind us.”

It was odd to see Jihoon make the front pages instead of himself. It was even weirder that he cared enough to actually read those pieces of journalistic garbage - impossible conjunctures on how Jihoon and Yewon fell in love, false anonymous testimonies, exclusive details on her private life. He felt sorry for her, mostly. Papers always tried to paint people in the worst light possible, but they were particularly nasty to women who dated popular male celebrities. Soonyoung barely knew Yewon himself, but he knew she was nice and efficient and definitely didn’t need any of them to help her keep her job as assistant manager.

Seokmin made him gingerbread cookies and he ate them alone on Christmas eve, cross-legged on his backstage room. He was finally home, away from Sophia, and he was opening up for _Pristin_ on some morning daily show. Just him alone, as was probably meant to be. He only really stopped moping around when the girls barged into his room to thank him, Nayoung frowning at the pile of crumbles by his feet.

“You look like a big mess, dude,” Jieqiong said. “Wanna talk about it?”

“A guy can’t enjoy eating cookies by his own while contemplating the void of existence anymore?”

They all exchanged concerned looks. “Listen, Mr. Kwon-“

“Wow, do not call me that,” Soonyoung groaned. “You’re making me feel like a granddad.”

“Okay, fine,” Eunwoo proceeded, unbothered. “If you want we could keep you some company. In a non-weird way.”

“How is it- oh,” Soonyoung lolled his head on the couch and ran a hand down his face. “I’m not a sex-deprived freak, I can assure you.”

“Sure,” Nayoung shrugged. “Anything else that you’re not?”

“A functional human being?”

“Good start,” she slapped his shoulder and sat down next to him. “We heard _The Sound Of Silence_ all the way from our room so we could guess as much.”

Soonyoung snorted. “Yeah, well, Junhui made that mixtape for me for when I was feeling sad. Which is terrible because it only makes me feel more sad.”

“I think you need someone with more… emotional intelligence,” Yaebin said. “Or, that’s a bad term, maybe a more feminine sensibility?”

“I’m not having girl trouble if that’s what you’re thinking,” Soonyoung assured them. Truthful enough. “Also Wonwoo told me not to listen to any of you because one of you stole his copy of _The Stranger_.”

“Oh,” Minkyung finally spoke up, looking away. “Well it doesn’t matter. We’ve known each other for about two weeks, we basically know everything about you.”

“Pretty sure we’ve only said hi and bye to each other-“

“And without meaning to sound disrespectful we read every front page today and we know it’s because of Jihoon,” Nayoung said in one breath. Soonyoung blinked at her, surprised. “Or, well, we assumed it was.”

“You’ve been discussing my private life between each other?” Soonyoung asked. Jieqiong had begun to braid Eunwoo’s hair as if to avoid the conversation.

“Yeah, well,” Minkyung laughed. “It’s what people do, no?”

“No.”

“So is it about him?”

“Why would it be about him?” Soonyoung groaned exasperatedly. “He’s doing fine, he’s still alive and well for all I know.”

“Ri-ight,” Eunwoo squinted at him.

“I must say it, I love your makeup,” Jieqiong blurted out. The others turned to her to glare and she smiled. “Someone had to say it.”

Soonyoung was reminded of Jihoon turning his face away as Soonyoung wiped away the smudge of eyeliner by the corner of his eye. His eyelashes could barely unglue from each other due to the clutters of mascara.

“Don’t you know how to take off your makeup? You’re gonna get bad skin.”

“It’s too hard,” Jihoon whined. “And I’ve said countless times I don’t want to wear it. I think I look stupid with it.”

Soonyoung let his thumb slip to Jihoon’s cheek. “I think you look pretty.”

“You always say that,” Jihoon laughed, stroking Soonyoung’s wrist. “Even when I get bloodshot eyes in the morning.”

“You only get them because you don’t take your makeup off. And you do look pretty then.”

“Soonyoung?” Nayoung’s fingers snapped in front of him. “So were we correct? We’re having a betting pool.”

Soonyoung looked at her with confusion. “You’re what?”

“Maybe we’re being annoying,” Minkyung said. “Are we being annoying?”

“No, no, it’s nice to have company. So where will you be spending your Christmas day?”

It was nice to hear other people had families to go back to and little siblings to buy toys for and warm milk to look forward to. When the time came for the performance he felt his blood curling in delight as his guitar vibrated under him, the excited screams making him forget the cameras focused on him.

He spent his Christmas Eve offering gifts to the kids in St. John’s Hospital and his Christmas morning in church, just to people watch mostly. The children were lovely, all bright smiles in spite of the tubes on their arms and around their noses and Soonyoung wondered how everything could seem so bleak to him in comparison. He missed his mother terribly, wanted nothing but for her to make him hot chocolate as he played _Scrabble_ with his little cousins.

He found a little phone cabin at night and called Jihoon only for Yewon’s voice to answer him. He hung up and checked into a random motel. He shouldn’t have sold his house. At least there he could feel some familiarity.

At a quarter past three Soonyoung went out, bought four bottles of wine and liquor and two cans of beer and went back to his room. First he went through the beers, easy and refreshing, and afterwards he stood staring at the ceiling deciding on whether to open the bottles or not. He started with the Port and, although it burned down his throat, it tasted amazing, and suddenly he was crying. His mother was just here. He could feel her pacing around, fixing the bob pins in her hair.

“Hey? Hey,” he could hear his voice gurgling weirdly. He was trying very hard to stand up. “Jihoonie, mom said you forgot your jacket here - You know, the big red building in front of the Basin? - Oh, _oh_ , my stomach. I have to go, okay?”

He remembered a warped voice answering him and the grass under his palms, dirt clinging to them, and the retching sounds in the back of his throat. He also remembered praying, something small with the words all wrong, as his forehead rested against concrete and then thanking God when he stumbled through the door and passed out on the rug.

-

Soonyoung opened his eyes because he knew he had to. His mouth was dry and tasted of something rotten and the vein alongside his temple throbbed and rattled his brain. What he supposed was a hand cupped his chin and when he finally could peer through the crusts that had formed in the corners of his eyes he saw Jihoon’s mouth pressed into an unhappy line and felt so fond he could die right there.

“Hey-“

“Don’t talk,” Jihoon said and helped Soonyoung raise his head a bit to sip a bit of water from a bottle he had beside him. Soonyoung suddenly realised he was lying on Jihoon’s lap. “You drank all those bottles just tonight?”

Soonyoung couldn’t remember. He gave Jihoon a small nod.

“Fuck,” Jihoon groaned, pushing Soonyoung’s bangs away from his eyes. “We gotta get you to bed, alright?”

“I think I might throw up,” Soonyoung said.

“I don’t think you have anything left in your stomach.”

Jihoon helped him up and Soonyoung fell flat on his back onto the motel’s hard mattress. He shut his eyes tightly, turned to his side and curled up on himself.

“The paps saw?”

“What?” Jihoon asked, distracted. He was pulling Soonyoung’s pants down. “No, I don’t think so. You want me to call management control?”

“No, no, I don’t care,” Soonyoung’s legs were cold now. He was used to sleeping only in pants. “Just worried for you guys. ‘m sorry.”

“I didn’t tell Wonwoo and Junhui,” Jihoon said. “I didn’t want to worry them. You sounded so out of it. I came as fast as I could.”

“You’re too good to me,” he was under the covers in a moment and his legs didn’t feel so cold anymore. “Thank you.”

“Go to sleep.”

“Will you be here when I wake up?” Soonyoung’s eyes were already weighing on him.

“Of course. I’m here.”

Then it was dark.

-

Jihoon was there, face pressed to Soonyoung’s hip bone as he slept soundly on his side. Soonyoung wanted to stroke his head, but something told him he shouldn’t. He remembered - Jihoon had a girlfriend now.

God, he hated being sober.

He propped himself up on his elbows and shook his head to wake himself up. His head was still slightly groggy but it was bearable now. There was a tablet of pills on the bedside table and he popped one so he could down it with water. Jihoon shifted, the back of his hand brushing against Soonyoung’s thigh over the covers. Soonyoung tried not to blush like an high school student over something so minimal.

“Jihoon,” he called.

After the third call Jihoon stirred.

“Hm?”

“It’s night.”

Jihoon blinked, splaying his hand over Soonyoung’s stomach to lift himself up. “How do you feel?”

“A lot better,” Soonyoung said. Jihoon smiled, relieved.

“Good. You got me worried there, bud.”

Soonyoung placed his palm over his eyes. “I’m an idiot.”

Jihoon finally climbed out of bed, barely seeming to notice he had been cuddling up to Soonyoung just a few moments ago.

“I can’t argue that,” Jihoon shrugged, putting on his coat that had been thrown over the arm of the love seat on the corner of the room. “One day you’re gonna get yourself killed.”

“Maybe that’s for the best.”

Jihoon frowned. The room seemed to drop a few degrees in temperature, as if the silence was spreading into a cold breeze. “That isn’t funny.”

“I’m not trying to be,” Soonyoung admitted.

Jihoon sighed. He looked at Soonyoung, took a step forward and then stopped. “Are you still in love with me?”

“Yes,” Soonyoung replied without thinking. "God, yes. I love you."

Jihoon shook his head and looked down at his feet. "This will pass. Right?"

Soonyoung stared at him, at his encouraging smile. He couldn't take his love back, but he pantomimed a genuine smile. "Right."

“Thank you,” Jihoon said, took the rest of the steps to reach the bed and pressed a kiss to Soonyoung’s forehead. “I need to go back. Get better, yeah?”

“I'll try.”

Jihoon closed the door behind him and Soonyoung sulked quietly in bed, sliding under the covers. He wanted to write his thoughts into paper, so he took the notepad and pen from the drawer on the bedside table and started scribbling until he felt tired and fell asleep again.

New Year’s was rushed. Soonyoung spent his morning and afternoon feeding people at a shelter because he thought it would make him feel better, but it only made him miserable to see faces light up at the awkward mash of food he gave them. He went to a bar at night and kissed a stranger in the dark and on the third of January Wonwoo and Junhui and Jihoon all presented themselves to the studio happy and bright from having spent the holidays with their loved ones.

Everything went by in a blur and at one point Soonyoung could swear the days just became an endless repetition of the previous, the same actions, the same phrases, the same food, the same shows. Even the songs started to meld into each other until it all sounded like a drawn out cry of pain. Yewon would come into a room and smile shyly when Jihoon came up to talk to her softly to the side of the room and then that happened over and over and over again.

He was sick of it but he laughed hard enough at the slightest things to forget. The sleeping pills started to slip back into his life so he couldn’t think of anything at night, his lyrics became downbeat and his riffs mellow. It was odd, but he started working like never before and throwing ideas nearly as often as Jihoon. It all led up to Seungcheol assigning him for a solo project and Soonyoung, without meaning to, felt a weight lift off his shoulders.

Yewon had arranged the background band players and for the first time since the news broke out Soonyoung was alone with her in a room. He had never really spoken to her before, since she handled the behind-the-scenes stuff that Soonyoung found incredibly dull. Jihoon would usually deal with that.

“Do you have a concept in mind?” She asked, tapping her pen on her notepad. Her nails were perfectly manicured, short and black.

“Yeah,” Soonyoung said, taking a cigarette pack from his coat pocket and lighting one up. She kept staring at him, waiting. “I have the songs already.”

Yewon sighed, scratching her forehead. “Listen, I can’t help if you don’t cooperate.”

Soonyoung crossed his legs and leaned back on his chair, blowing the smoke in her general direction. He hated when he acted like this. “If you wanna go home earlier you just have to tell me.”

“You know I don’t want that.”

“Jihoon’s probably sick and tired of waiting for his bed-warmer,” Soonyoung crushed the cigarette on the tray and stood up. The taste was even worse than he remembered. “Let me just tell the backups what I want and that will be that, okay?”

Yewon shook her head furiously, but stood up quietly and simply left without another word. When Soonyoung had entered this life he had thought putting up the unpleasant rock and roll star persona when speaking to someone he didn’t like was entertaining, but the act felt old and forced now. He found Yewon outside, arms crossed and pacing around.

“You’re over your tantrum?” She asked, rightfully spiteful.

Soonyoung ducked his head. “Yeah. I don’t know what got into me. I’m sorry.”

“Great. So let’s start over.”

He missed everyone throughout the entire duration of the project: Junhui complaining about the blisters in his fingers and ruining their take, Wonwoo’s expressions of boredom even during fast-paced riffs, Jihoon’s voice harmonizing with him in a controlled falsetto. The hired professionals were nice and perfectly capable, but when they called it a wrap for the day they’d leave to go back to their own routines and Soonyoung would be left alone.

“He cares,” Yewon told him as she set down a coffee in front of Soonyoung. It reminded him of college and if he closed his eyes he could taste the same bitterness mixed with the hint of plastic from the waxed paper cup Jihoon used to bring him. “I can tell. I know how hard it is to tamper down feelings.”

“I don’t understand,” Soonyoung replied honestly. He rubbed his calloused fingers across his palm.

"You're both very alike, you know?"

He didn't say anything.

“I’m- I’m just covering up for him,” she admitted quietly. “He didn’t want me to tell you this. He wanted to give you a chance to move on, I think.”

Soonyoung blinked furiously, wanting to dig his feet into the carpet until the rest of his body followed suit into a deep, dark hole. “You’re not in love with him?”

“Let’s just say men aren’t really my thing,” Yewon offered him a bashful smile. “He doesn’t love me either. I was hand-picked to make the whole thing easier, but... Listen, I think this is actually tearing him apart inside. He isn’t very good at expressing his feelings from what I’ve picked up.”

“Understatement of the century.”

Yewon looked down. “Yeah. I wish I knew how to help you. But if he doesn’t want to be true to himself and feels like this is the only way for him to be happy, who am I to deprive him of that?”

It felt like a slap to the face. Soonyoung had known Jihoon all these years and had never thought of it that way. So many people had decided to live a normal, standard life before in spite of the direction their heart pointed at. Yet Soonyoung had been too busy thinking about what he wanted. And Jihoon...

“I… Sometimes I just wish love was enough,” Soonyoung said with finality. Yewon nodded and remained with him in companionable silence.

But love wasn’t enough. It wasn't a guarantee for happiness in a world running on money and social acceptance. He could only follow a futile dream to its edge.

He finally understood Jihoon. He understood Yewon, Seungcheol and even Joshua. That hurt even more - he had always thought being an idealist was a good thing growing up. Jihoon looked up at the camera in the concert tapes Soonyoung popped in later that evening and smiled right at him and Soonyoung thought “This is my Jihoon,” even when Jihoon aged and his appearance started to change, his jaw becoming sharper and his cheeks less prominent. Jihoon was his with his chubby cheeks and foggy glasses, he was his with his strong arms and pointed smile. This Jihoon, that Jihoon, and still Soonyoung could recognize him with his eyes closed.

Soonyoung opened his eyes and the tape came off the VHS player. That mechanical beat and his heartbeat became one for just one moment and Soonyoung let his temperament fall back into obscurity. Rationality. Wonwoo was the most rational of them all, but he never looked quite miserable as Soonyoung felt at that moment. He wondered how he did it.

“This is my last album,” Soonyoung told Seungcheol in the latter’s office, feeling like a naughty kid having to give explanations to the principal. “This project made me realize that this is what I want to do. I want to be a solo artist, I- I’m leaving the band, Seungcheol.”

Seungcheol gave him a pointed look, face half-hidden behind his linked hands. “Alright. I was kind of expecting this, but not this early.”

“Yeah, I figured you were,” Soonyoung threw at him bitterly. Seungcheol actually seemed stung by it for a second. “I’m still technically under the label, right?”

“You do have a contract, yes,” Seungcheol agreed. “But the band… I didn’t mean to...” he trailed off. “Let’s not publicize it yet, though, alright?”

“Don’t be bothered with that. I’ll tell them the minute _Home_ starts falling on the charts. And then my album comes out a few months later and it’s a huge commercial success. How about that? I might even take your job from you if I keep up with these ideas.”

Seungcheol still didn’t look too thrilled. “Promise me something.”

“What now?”

“You’ll get therapy,” then, quickly, he added: “I need you to not go down that road. I have seen so many people go down that road and I’m only thirty-five. You have your whole life ahead of you.”

Soonyoung felt a great burst of laughter bubbling in his chest. He held it down.

“Alright.”

“Good,” Seungcheol nodded and leaned back on his chair. “Do you… Do you want to tell them now?”

Soonyoung shook his head. “We have the Japan tour to worry about this summer. I- After… I’ll tell them after.”

“Okay,” Seungcheol agreed. “Then let’s fill out some papers, shall we?”

* * *

**6 years later**

The thing about Jihoon is that age fits him like a glove. His face is still as smooth and perfect as it was in his early twenties, but now he’s broader and ever so slightly taller. Soonyoung isn’t sure what he’s supposed to make of this untimely visit, but he still lets Jihoon in nonetheless.

“France, uh?” Jihoon says, looking around and then up at the high ceiling of Soonyoung’s penthouse. “I would pin you more for a Caribbeans sort of guy.”

“Good wine,” Soonyoung nervously does up two buttons of his half-open shirt and rubs the back of his neck to wipe some of the sweat away. “It’s never this hot either.”

“I can imagine,” Jihoon pulls a chair, leaning on the back of it instead of sitting down. “It’s quite cozy.”

“I thought you were getting married,” Soonyoung blurts out before he can help it.

Jihoon straightens up again, gripping the chair tighter now. Soonyoung can’t read his expression. “I was. It didn’t quite work out.”

“I’m sorry,” Soonyoung offers a beat too late for it to be genuine. “Sit down, I’ll grab us some wine.”

Jihoon looks tired now that Soonyoung is paying attention. The last he heard from Jihoon he had been giving an interview on his relationship and his new musical projects. There were no longer any questions about Seventeen. His PR team had probably handled that, but the paps had still caught Jihoon hanging out with Junhui at the latter’s film set in Taiwan and rumors about a reunion had spread like wildfire.

Sometimes Wonwoo and Junhui call. They still find sleeves of time they can slip Soonyoung into in spite of their busy schedules shooting movies around the world and making TV appearances. It’s heartwarming to hear familiar voices when he still struggles with his french, enough for isolation to become a well too close-to-heart problem. Soonyoung had thought that was what he needed at the time, some time off to gather his ideas, but in spite of the beautiful cottage he had bought and the peaceful fishing trips or the boisterous Bastille celebrations he still felt overwhelmingly empty.

Now, with Jihoon in front of him sipping at his cup of wine absentmindedly, he realizes he has lost so much time. Now he can see some lines fading into Jihoon’s forehead, his scattered freckles are more concentrated around his nose. Whenever Soonyoung had seen this person on TV he had always thought - “This isn’t my Jihoon.”. But after years of being alone or with someone and alone, over and over again, Soonyoung realized Jihoon had never been his, even when he remembers so vividly Jihoon’s hand on his neck, and his voice saying _I'm in love with you_.

“You never called,” Jihoon says, cradling his cup like he’s a child expecting a scolding. “I felt so confused for the longest time. Like I knew it wasn’t my fault and still - ”

“It was your fault,” Soonyoung cuts him off. “Don’t say it wasn’t your fucking fault.”

Jihoon scowls, but doesn’t seem entirely upset over it. “You were leaving us. You were leaving _me_.”

Again, Jihoon can lift so many buried emotions in him. Soonyoung feels too small in his too big living room and suddenly he starts wondering why he has both a dining table and an island counter if no one ever comes over. Jihoon looks at him like he’s prodding at an open wound, waiting.

“I couldn’t do anything else.”

Jihoon sighs and shakes his head. "You promised me we were going to write the next big thing. Together. And then-"

"Then you abandoned me like a dog so you could be with someone else. You chose your career over me from the start and it took me so long to accept it, but I did. What was I supposed to do, Jihoon? My feelings had already ruined the band,” Soonyoung continued. “I was going to ruin your dream as well. All because I’m like - like _this_.”

“Fuck,” Jihoon presses his forehead against his palms. “I shouldn’t have come.”

And that still stings, hearing Jihoon reject him. It doesn’t get better over the years, even when they’re about to turn over the century. For a moment Soonyoung just stares and realizes Jihoon isn’t wearing his glasses, which he never really does anymore, even for interviews. He fills out his t-shirt nicely, even though Jihoon had always had a nice body, and his hair is frizzy like it had been overheated. It almost looks curly.

“I just missed you,” Jihoon admits, finally looking up.

“For once in six years,” and Jihoon offers him a cynical grin at that.

“Don’t be so sure about that.”

He looks so earnest Soonyoung can’t help himself from getting flustered. They’re almost strangers now and Jihoon is being so candid it nearly burns Soonyoung’s chest. Sometimes he feels like he just traveled through a wormhole and got here, back to the place where he started, and even though they are both older and had other relationships it seems inevitable to have ended up here with Jihoon.

“Well,” Jihoon stands up suddenly, stretching out his limbs. “Guess I’ll go now. I just wanted to see you.”

“Yeah,” Soonyoung says. It’s a terrible time to do this. He admonishes his thoughts as quickly as they come, thoughts about telling Jihoon to stay or to come with him back to Paris. “It was nice to see you.”

He accompanies Jihoon to the door, his heart beating in his ears, against his chest, across his temples. Jihoon turns around to look at him and something shifts in the air, something quick and almost imperceptible. 

“Listen-“

“Stop,” and Soonyoung can’t bear having Jihoon this close after so many years. “Just go, please.”

“I can’t,” Jihoon says, hand firmly pressed to the door like Soonyoung will force it open if he doesn’t keep it there. “There’s so much- There’s so much shit I’ve done wrong, I can’t go with a clear head.”

“What did you think was going to happen?” Soonyoung spits out bitterly, resolutely shoving his hands in his pockets. “You were always so fucking selfish, Jihoon. First the disbandment and now this? I can’t, you know I can’t. You were getting _married_.”

“I fucking know! You know why I didn’t?” Jihoon asks, and he isn’t crying, but his voice is raw with emotion and his eyes glazed over with something angry and dull. “Well, do you? I’ll tell you - because I couldn’t stop being fucking miserable no matter how hard I tried. Because I - I woke up everyday thinking this is _wrong_ and what if…” he trails off. “All of this because of you. And I always knew that, so I don’t know why - Fuck.”

Jihoon is flushed now, maybe from speaking in almost a single breath or maybe because this is the most honest he’s ever been with Soonyoung. It’s the worst Soonyoung has ever seen him, uncertain and afraid of… he isn’t sure. Rejection?

Soonyoung stays where he is, desperately wanting to do something but hesitating for once. Every time he’s let himself fall he’s ended up worse than before. In six years he hasn’t touched any pills unless he had been ill and had never gotten drunk to the point where he wasn’t aware of what he was doing. In six years he let himself care for other people, even if only for a while, has maintained regular contact with his closest friends and has made a name for himself. In six years he left England for France and Jihoon for himself.

But now… 

Jihoon looks down and turns to leave, but Soonyoung is quick enough to take his hands from his pockets and slamming one against the door. Jihoon’s hand, previously hovering above the doorknob, gently comes down again.

“I - I need to think,” Soonyoung says, half-breathless. “I don’t know what you want me to do.”

Jihoon grabs Soonyoung’s bicep and removes his arm from the door. His hand goes down Soonyoung’s arm and all of a sudden their hands are wrapping around each other, clammy and warm. Soonyoung brings them up to his chest, the back of Jihoon’s hand right above his heart, and smiles at Jihoon’s pretend-scowl.

“Let me think.”

Jihoon nods and lets go. “Just don’t fry your head.”

And just like that, Soonyoung feels lighter again.

-

The thing about Jihoon is that his expressions are so singular that they make Soonyoung strangely fond. Sometimes he’ll twist his nose at something sour or join his lips in a pout and Soonyoung will want to kiss him.

This time he joins his brows in concentration as he tries to determine whether the water is too cold to take a swim in. Soonyoung is already inside the water, waving his arms enthusiastically so Jihoon will join him.

The phone call had gone as follows:

“Have you thought?”

“It’s too hot to think.”

A beat of silence.

“Do you want to go for a swim? I miss it.”

“You remember that?”

“Of course. You let me borrow that ugly yellow sweater.”

“I thought you looked nice in it.”

“Oh, did you?”

“Shut up. Just come pick me up when you can.”

Jihoon finally submerges himself in the water, coming back to the surface a few moments later. It’s like a jab to the stomach, the deja-vu sensation of it. Soonyoung challenges him to a race to get his mind off of it and Jihoon promptly accepts with his usual confidence, boasting about how he could even give Soonyoung a head start.

Jihoon is winning until Soonyoung pulls him back by his ankle. It’s only a second, but Jihoon is startled into coughing out the water in his lungs while Soonyoung reaches the other side of the river. Soonyoung laughs when Jihoon starts swimming towards him and laughs even harder when Jihoon shoves his shoulder and pretends to sulk with his head buried in his arms, which are propped on the riverside.

“C’mon, Little Mermaid, don’t be mad at me,” Soonyoung is still breathless from his laughing fit, clapping Jihoon’s shoulder comfortingly. “There’s always next time.”

“Don’t talk to me, cheater,” Jihoon says, muffled.

The thing about Jihoon is that he makes it impossible for Soonyoung to think clearly. Wonwoo said something about it once - it didn’t take much to impair Soonyoung’s judgement. He remembers how well Wonwoo got along with his mother, both bonding over how right they were about everything, and snorts before his heart turns heavy. What would his mother say now?

“How’d you find me?” Soonyoung asks, flicking some water at Jihoon. 

“Guess,” Jihoon mumbles, resting his cheek on his arms. “Big guy, used to have long hair.”

“Junhui?” Soonyoung says. “He lucked out. You know, he told me if he had to have a guy it would have been you.”

Jihoon’s face reddens in an instant, his incredulous expression shifting to indignation when Soonyoung starts laughing.

“I knew you had a thing for him.”

“Shut up. Who didn’t?” Jihoon fires back, burying his face further in his arms as the conversation progresses.

“I didn’t,” Soonyoung affirms proudly.

“Oh, don’t give me that. I can’t have been the only one,” Jihoon says, like it’s the most absurd thing in the world.

Soonyoung doesn’t know how to reply to that.

“Can’t we- Can’t we just leave it in the past? Not talk about it?” It’s the coward way out, but the more Jihoon mentions it the more Soonyoung is aware of Jihoon’s presence, of his closeness.

Jihoon lifts his head and it makes Soonyoung think of a puppy taking an interest in something. He doesn’t know where this sudden change of mind comes from, but it breaks Soonyoung’s heart that he isn’t able to reciprocate it as quickly as he would have a few years ago.

“Is that what you want?”

 _No_ , Soonyoung wants to say instinctively. “It’s been so fucking long.”

“I know,” Jihoon says. In a simpler time he would have looked like something out of a dream, but now he just carries so many memories attached to him, memories Soonyoung can’t forget. “I regret so many things. I feel like I’ve just wasted my entire life. I can’t even write songs anymore.”

That stings Soonyoung the most. He reaches out, touches Jihoon’s elbow. Jihoon looks the same he did when he was eighteen - expectant, terrified, hesitant, wonder-eyed. Soonyoung taps his elbow twice and Jihoon lets his arm fall back into the water.

“You’re barely pushing thirty. This isn’t the 1500s.”

Jihoon smiles at that. “It feels like a lifetime.”

It does. Some days Soonyoung has to remind himself that he’s not nineteen anymore, that that bit of his life is closed and immovable. He thinks too much - maybe he should have just moved along when he was introduced to Jihoon. Maybe he should have quit that day Junhui auditioned in his garage, maybe he should have left permanently the first time and dealt with his grief alone.

Yet, even now, he knows he would never have done any of those things.

“I just wanted you to say these feelings weren’t my fault. For you to not turn away every time I touched you. I just wanted you to _understand_ ,” and Soonyoung is damn well near crying, but he holds it back now. He’s trained himself to do so over the years.

“I wanted you to understand, too! I didn’t want you to waste your time on me, I tried so hard to give you a good life -“

“You don’t get to decide what’s good for me!" Soonyoung bursts out. "You really think you know everything, like the whole world is on your shoulders and you have to bear it all. I was right there the whole time. I wanted to take that weight for you."

Jihoon closes his eyes for a second and looks down. "You can't."

"Only because you won't let me."

Jihoon goes down under again, bubbles popping in the surface, and when he comes back up he’s pretty much pressed against Soonyoung’s side. He laughs, kicks at Soonyoung’s shin and tries to move back, but Soonyoung is quick to grab his arm and pull Jihoon towards him.

“I'm being serious,” Soonyoung threatens playfully, tightening his grip on Jihoon’s bicep. It’s firm under his hand and Soonyoung can feel it flexing as a weak attempt to set himself free. “Don't dodge the conversation."

“Fuck you.”

“If you insist,” and Jihoon actually nicks him in the cheek for that. Soonyoung is going to complain when Jihoon’s hand stays there, cupping the side of his face. “What’d you do that for?”

It comes out half-choked, because Jihoon’s hand is cold and wet on his cheek and everything is suspended. A water nymph could run by right now and Soonyoung would pay them no mind. He forgets - or tries to, at least - how in love he is with this look in particular. Jihoon is staring at Soonyoung like he can’t stand doing so. It seems like it pains him, somehow, just the act of looking, but he can’t stop himself from doing so all the same. This is where and how and why Soonyoung fell in love with Jihoon. Maybe the feeling had been stirring in his chest from the first night, but it was here that it hit him like a ton of bricks. It seems like a small eternity has passed between then and now.

“You’re so fucking stupid,” Jihoon says and Soonyoung can’t help the indignant whine that escapes his lips. “Possibly the dumbest person I’ve ever met, really,” and he pinches Soonyoung’s cheek at that, pulling it until it hurts.

“No need to be so bitter over a swimming race,” Soonyoung mutters after he makes Jihoon let go, tears stinging his eyes slightly.

It takes Soonyoung a moment to realize he’s holding Jihoon’s hand. Jihoon stares at their hands, then at him. It’s so weird, Soonyoung thinks, that they’re still dancing around this.

“I was never really good to you, was I?” Jihoon says, pulling back again. It almost feels like a practiced dance at this point. “Ah, really... I should have just come over and had a beer and left. Maybe Yewon would take me back.”

“If you want to be miserable, then please go ahead, but don’t bring her into this,” Soonyoung snaps unexpectedly, surprising even himself. “You can marry anyone, just not her. She deserves better.”

“I know what you mean, but that hurt, Kwon,” Jihoon says, smiling a bit. “I think she saw me as a ticket out before. But honestly, she seemed relieved when I called the whole thing off. I tried to do so before, you know. Even while we were dating or whatever you want to call it. I always told her she should be happy and she would just respond that if I could live a lie then why couldn’t she?”

Soonyoung just stares. He doesn’t know what to do when Jihoon gets emotional like this. 

“I understood her you know?” Jihoon continues, after a pause of him just looking at the grass to avoid Soonyoung’s gaze. “That burden you feel. Like everyone has their hands wrapped around your throat. If you say something they’ll just squeeze you tighter until you’re silent and you learn to live with that,” and Jihoon must see that Soonyoung knows where he’s getting at, because suddenly it looks like he can’t hold back anymore. “I’ve never told anyone this. People just used to assume my parents were either dead or that they abandoned me. I guess they did, in a way.”

“Fuck,” is all Soonyoung can say and Jihoon laughs at that.

“Yeah. I don’t know what went through my head when I told them.”

The pieces start clicking together slowly. Soonyoung had read up about Jihoon’s previous fallout with his parents, but he had never pried or believed the articles. It’s not like any magazine could have a clue on why Jihoon had to leave his home when he was just a teenager and it wasn’t Soonyoung’s place to ask. There was a reason their interviews were scripted to their liking and why Jihoon scratched all the questions that ever mentioned his past before the band.

Soonyoung starts feeling like a moron for every time he mocked Jihoon over studying too much. What would he ever know about needing a scholarship to survive? He had a mother who supported him financially and who hugged him tightly when he told her about Jihoon. He swallows until his throat feels less dry.

“How old were you?” Soonyoung asks before the silence becomes too stifling. 

“Fifteen,” Jihoon says. “I worked at a bar doing cleanups and they would rent me a room and give me food in return for my work. Well, they let me sleep in the storage room and gave me the leftovers, but either way, it wasn’t too bad considering i could only work when I got off school. I saved up during the summers by working double-shifts at other places.”

“Why are you only telling me this now?” Soonyoung doesn’t mean to sound upset, but he can feel his frustration penting up at Jihoon’s passiveness over the situation. “I could have helped you.”

“I don’t need handouts,” Jihoon says matter-of-factly. “I got the scholarship, didn’t I?”

Soonyoung wants to strangle him. “How did you even keep this a secret from everyone?”

Jihoon looks away, his face red. “It’s not like I needed to. My parents just erased me completely from their lives. I don’t think they could handle the embarrassment of admitting they have a gay son.”

It’s the first time Soonyoung hears Jihoon say that word and it takes him aback a little bit. It seems like such a small word in Jihoon’s mouth, like he just chewed it and spit it out, wanting to get rid of it. Soonyoung reaches for his hand underwater and Jihoon flinches when Soonyoung’s fingers wrap around his wrist. 

“Do you think this is disgusting?” Soonyoung asks, eyes fixed on Jihoon’s confused expression. “Do you think this is wrong?”

“No. _No_ ,” Jihoon says, more firmly. “But -”

“Hey,” Soonyoung moves a bit closer. “It’s just me.”

He’s so cold now that his nose itches. He sneezes, inevitably, and Jihoon laughs at the abrupt interruption of Soonyoung’s serious moment. 

“I know it’s just you,” Jihoon says, bringing his free hand up to Soonyoung’s nape. “You idiot.”

The thing about Jihoon is that Soonyoung never really forgot about how soft his lips were against his. Even now, Jihoon kisses him tentatively, just a peck as he pushes himself up using Soonyoung’s shoulders as leverage. When he comes back down Soonyoung follows him, his entire body yearning for this.

“You’re so fucking stupid,” Jihoon keeps saying, like it’s a term of endearment. His fingers are gripping Soonyoung’s hair. “Fuck.”

“Not here,” Soonyoung says when Jihoon presses against him, his cock already half-hard against Soonyoung’s hip. “It’s barely under an hour back.”

But Jihoon shakes his head and shoves Soonyoung against the bedside of the river, insistent and relentless. The fact that someone, anyone, could just emerge from the clearance or from further down the rivers scares and excites Soonyoung all the same. Jihoon rubs the heel of his palm against Soonyoung’s clothed dick.

“Shit, okay, Jihoon, c’mon -“ and Jihoon shuts him up with his mouth all slick from the water running from his hair and from Soonyoung’s tongue, curling up gently against Jihoon’s over and over again. 

Jihoon eventually grabs Soonyoung’s dick underwater, which is a whole new experience. Jihoon’s hand is slower, but more firm, and Soonyoung clings to his hips to pull him closer, wanting to rub off on him. Jihoon pauses, looks up at Soonyoung.

“This lake is fucking disgusting,” he says and Soonyoung just stares, dumbfounded. “But I’m not waiting an hour.”

In the end, they make it as far as the car. They leave Soonyoung’s leather seats all wet, but it helps that they’re only wearing swim trunks. Jihoon pulls both of them down and wraps his hand around Soonyoung’s dick first. Soonyoung remembers days agonizing over Jihoon’s fingers fiddling with the guitar strings, long and dexterous. They look almost delicate as they tighten around him with each swift motion.

“I know,” Jihoon hushes him when Soonyoung flinches and digs his nails into Jihoon’s back. 

“You too,” Soonyoung manages to breathe out, hands slipping down to Jihoon’s waist so that he can pull him towards him. “I wanna feel you.”

Jihoon huffs out a soft noise and opens his hand so as to grab both of them. Soonyoung leans towards the touch, feels Jihoon’s cock roughly sliding against his own. Jihoon stops, spits on his hand and resumes stroking in a rhythmic up-and-down motion.

Soonyoung can do very little but arch up and relish how big and soft Jihoon’s hands are on him. _Like that_ , Soonyoung thinks he's saying but can't be really sure anymore. His head is so loud, like sirens are going off and all his brain can conjure up from each electrical discharge are vague monosyllabic encouragements. Jihoon bites his jaw.

"Will you say it to me now?" Jihoon requests, gently. "That it's only me?"

"It's only you," Soonyoung whispers. "Lord knows it, Jihoon, it's always been you."

Jihoon laughs at Soonyoung's religious terminology, as if he isn't aware that Soonyoung would pray silently every night for him to leave his heart in the middle of his sleep, like a fever that passes by daylight. And then, just before unconsciousness surrounded him like a flood, he would change his mind and think _stay, stay, stay_. Jihoon gasps against his shoulder, Soonyoung can feel his thighs shaking when he puts his hand over Jihoon's and works them up together. He would never think he would come rocking against Jihoon like this, in the back of his car, but he's overly sensitive from all the teasing and Jihoon's free hand reaches over, his nails running down his side, and Soonyoung comes apart just like that.

He scratches down Jihoon's back in response, watches as Jihoon comes right after as if that was his signal to do so. And then, as they catch their breath, Jihoon trembling and slightly bleary-eyed, Soonyoung feels something shift in the air as Jihoon says, "Drive."

It takes a while for Soonyoung to realize just how out of it Jihoon is. Soonyoung tries to focus on the road, but it's hard when Jihoon is flushed all the way down to his chest and shifting in his seat like he wants to do something. He settles with palming the top of his trunks and throwing his head back on the seat, closing his eyes in the meantime. It's just as they're crossing a neighbourhood a few blocks away from Soonyoung's house that Jihoon slips his hand under his shorts. Soonyoung can't fucking think. He's glad for the straight line home.

"I'm going to fucking kill you," Soonyoung says with no bite as they pull up to his garage.

"I hope so," Jihoon says, pulling Soonyoung closer for an open-mouthed kiss. "I won't settle for less."

They stumble upstairs, ditching their swimwear on the steps, and they laugh as they fall onto the bed, unsure of what to do. Jihoon straddles Soonyoung, smiling like something out of heaven.

“You’re so handsome. What am I going to do with you?” Soonyoung sighs as Jihoon presses down on his shoulders. It got dark outside somewhere along the way.

"Anything you want," Jihoon says.

Soonyoung holds Jihoon’s thighs, digs into them just because he can. He doesn't know what he would do if he lost this again. Even though Jihoon is right there Soonyoung just wants to beg him to stay. 

“Come to Paris with me.”

For a moment it seems that Jihoon has forgotten that they’re both naked, pressing up against each other. He just tilts his head to the side, furrows his brows a bit.

“Are you just quoting _Casablanca_ or...?” Jihoon eventually asks.

“We never had a proper vacation. Together,” Soonyoung points out. 

“Fuck. You really want to -“

“Yeah, I do.”

Jihoon shakes his head and for a moment Soonyoung’s heart falls until Jihoon huffs out a breath of laughter and says “Alright, then. I'll go with you. Can we get on with it already?”

"You'll come?" Soonyoung asks, disbeliefing.

"If you make me," Jihoon jokes and Soonyoung hugs him tightly for a moment before he's being pushed onto his back.

That night Soonyoung wears himself down to the brink of exhaustion, doesn't stop until Jihoon's skin looks like it has a bad rash from how red it is. He can't stop himself from thinking about how much he wants to bruise Jihoon, to have him wake up every day and remind him that he was Soonyoung's for that moment. When he finally collapses with tears in his eyes, stroking and kissing every bite and finger mark, Jihoon holds him and says comforting things until Soonyoung stops shaking. Yet, as he falls asleep, Soonyoung holds Jihoon back tightly and it doesn’t hurt as much as before, that lost time. The now is almost unbearably sweet.


	4. someday i won't have to wait for you

**Epilogue**

* * *

"Sometimes I think it would have been better to go back after all."

Soonyoung had just been dreaming of his mother. He was young, the kind of young he didn't remember being anymore, and his mom was looking through the bulk of files and didn't pick him. He remembers crying, the soreness of his chubby cheeks, the warmth of the tears dripping from his chin. For a moment, he thinks - _This could have been_. Maybe it has been, somewhere. He holds Jihoon's hand close to his chest.

"No. If it wasn't for this life I was thrown into I wouldn't be here, with you."

Jihoon smiles.

Paris is rainier than expected. There aren't any kisses under sun-polished archways or the salty punch of cheese melting on their tongues as they meld with other young people stretched out in outdoor cafes. The gloominess is oppressive and so terribly romantic that it makes Soonyoung ache for Jihoon even more. As the raindrops zigzag down the window, rushing to the ground, Soonyoung can only feel Jihoon's skin heated up by his blood.

Paris is bedsheets and running for cover with burning legs and drinking wine to soothe the nerves. Paris is wind-bitten cheeks and soaked jeans and kisses on the tip of the nose. Paris is love and rain and Jihoon.

They buy cheap rings without inscriptions and exchange them silently, secretly, at the back of the chapel. Soonyoung hears the choir's chant echo around the ornamented walls and feels the saints gazing down at them, gently. He mouths sweet nothings into the air, to his mother, feeling love coursing through him. _Are you watching me, mom? Isn't he handsome? I feel so lucky._ Next to him, Jihoon seems skeptical about the preaching, his gaze straying towards the statues and the people with bowed heads in an antsy rhythm. He blinks belatedly when everyone begins to kneel and awkwardly joins his hands in prayer as he pretends to know the words to the psalm.

"No need to pray in French," Soonyoung whispers as the choir pipes up again, nightingales hidden in dove feathers. "It's like making a wish for yourself." 

"I don't need to do that either," Jihoon tells him. Motes of dust rise up to the ceiling, the shuffling of clothes and whining pews muted in that single moment of beatitude. Even dust seems golden next to Jihoon, clinging to his hair and his clothes as he stares heavenwards, peering at the dome. "I'm okay."

At the end of mass, Soonyoung dips his fingers in holy water and crosses his thumb over Jihoon's forehead. Even sin seems golden next to Jihoon, clinging to Soonyoung's chest and making it burn until he can taste it in his mouth. Jihoon repeats Soonyoung's motions, tentatively. Soonyoung hopes everyone passing by them thinks that what they're doing is just some peculiar foreign tradition, because he can't help his lip quivering when Jihoon says "I do". The light sifting through the open doors turns Jihoon's careful eyes into whirlpools of gleaming, honey-brown and if Soonyoung were to glance at the paintings scattered throughout the walls he wouldn't be surprised to find Jihoon's face amidst the angels with aureate spun-hair and ruddy cheeks. Every celestial orb, every sunken ship, every budding plant, this and that and everything comes apart under Jihoon's hand. The universe becomes Jihoon and leaves Soonyoung's perception hazy like a fogged up mirror. He lets the drop of water flow down his nose.

"Do you love me?" Jihoon asks at night, fiddling with his ring as Soonyoung gets undressed for bed. Their hotel room is messier than when they had arrived, piles of clothing draped over chairs and water bottles lining up on the dresser. They have probably explored every inch of this apartment by now and Soonyoung's stomach coils at the thought of it.

"More than anything," Soonyoung says, just for the show of it. He likes the way Jihoon smiles whenever he says it. "And you let me."

"I don't know why," Jihoon agrees a little breathlessly. "Jun and Wonwoo will be mad we didn't invite them."

"I don't care. This isn't about them," Soonyoung places his hand on Jihoon's nape. "It's just you," he says and takes Jihoon's finger with his free hand. "Do you like that?"

Jihoon brings Soonyoung down to bed, like he doesn't know what to do with his emotions other than let them overflow. He reaches for the lube and a condom, and when he starts to take his ring off Soonyoung says "No. Leave it on."

Jihoon freezes, looking at Soonyoung and then at the ring. "Is this a possessive thing?" He asks, but does as requested. When he bottoms out inside Soonyoung it feels different from every other time. It isn't quick and desperate and sloppy. It's nearly painful for a bit.

"You're mine," Soonyoung says, his thighs quivering around Jihoon. "That's quite sexy if you ask me."

Jihoon shakes his head fondly. His mouth is warm against Soonyoung's, his chest feels steady under Soonyoung's hand. "You're so irritating."

Everything is so much louder, so much more vivid. Even if Jihoon wasn't moving, Soonyoung would still feel something shifting in him - the tenuous electricity on the tips of Jihoon's fingers or the strenuous way with which he drew each breath. Even if they were just lying down, they would still be making love.

When Jihoon is close he wraps his hand around Soonyoung's dick, prompting him to come at the same time. Jihoon's ring is cold on his skin and each jerking off motion is accompanied by a harsh rub of metal. It drives Soonyoung insane.

"Are you that turned on by my ring?" Jihoon asks when Soonyoung won't look up at him, too fixated on Jihoon's hand and the gold band catching on his skin.

"Yeah," Soonyoung answers. "Shit, yeah."

Jihoon brings his ring finger over Soonyoung's shaft and it almost embarrasses Soonyoung, coming like that. But how can anything they're doing be sinful when Jihoon looks so happy, worn and blissed out like that? Soonyoung strokes Jihoon's hair when the latter lays his head on his chest, pushing it away from his forehead.

"Don't do that," Jihoon warns, rolling away. His back has tensed up, like a ball of muscle coming up to cover his ears. "I'm tired."

"Oh," Soonyoung says, riddled with confusion. Did he do something wrong? 

"We'll have to leave this hotel soon," Jihoon speaks up a few minutes later, after he has dumped the worn condom on the trash bin and shimmied into his boxers. His face is half-buried on his pillow.

"Yeah. I want to bring you home with me," Soonyoung says, thinking of his cottage and already smelling the salt from the ocean.

"I want you to bring me home with you," Jihoon agrees. "But I have my career. You know that. I've always wanted to make music... 'til I was grey and old."

"Then do it. And come back home to me," is all Soonyoung can think of saying.

Jihoon peers at him from above his arm. "Round two?"

Soonyoung laughs. "You know it isn't about sex, right?"

"Right," Jihoon drawls, mockingly.

"It isn't," Soonyoung climbs on top of Jihoon and holds his face between his hands. It feels real, scarily so. "But it's like I can't help myself, you know? I don't want to talk or hold you close again, because I know how much that hurts."

"Good," Jihoon closes his eyes, eyelashes fluttering as if he's about to go to sleep. "I hate being held."

"Cry me a river."

Jihoon breathes out a laugh, looking at Soonyoung again. "If you just want to fuck me, that's alright, Soonyoung."

"Shut up and listen," Soonyoung says. "I want to. Fuck, I really want to. But I also want to be part of every little thing in your life. I can't and I know that. But this… this is the closest. I won't give it away for sex."

"You always say such painful things," Jihoon says, pressing his cheek to Soonyoung's hand. "I don't want your life to be just me. I want you to have those moments I'll eventually miss. I want you to want me, but I can't take it all."

Soonyoung dips down and kisses him. Jihoon's heartbeat is terrifyingly calm. Soonyoung's hands try to be soft on his face, but all he wants to do is grab whatever he can and keep it.

"Talk to me," Jihoon requests.

"I don't know what to say," Soonyoung admits.

"Don't place all your affections on me, Soonyoung. I'm just a person. I've let you down so many times. I'll do it again, eventually."

"Okay," Soonyoung says, his head swimming with uncertainties and foggy dreams of the past and the future. "Then let me down. You're my husband."

That gets a reaction out of Jihoon.

"Not legally."

"I don't care," Soonyoung states, firmly this time. He brings Jihoon's hand up to their eye level. "Look at this. We're married, Jihoonie. I can't put my affection anywhere else."

They had attended Seokmin's wedding before their trip. Seokmin had been delighted at finding them together and it still felt like no time had passed at all, even when Seokmin was up there wearing a pressed suit and looking down the aisle. Junhui and Wonwoo attended as their plus ones, simply because Soonyoung had missed them to pieces. Jihoon had too, if the way he clung to them throughout the whole ceremony was anything to go by.

Yuna's dress was simple, but she made it look elegant and stunning. Seokmin tried hard not to cry as she walked up towards him. Soonyoung tried hard not to look at Jihoon's teary eyes and think that a few months ago this might have been him. Maybe in another universe, one where they weren't this weak and could break their string apart or a better one, somehow. A kinder one. Jihoon cleared his throat and Soonyoung wanted to hold his hand. 

That night they performed together again as a surprise to the newlyweds. Their first dance was set to one of Soonyoung's solo songs and Soonyoung could barely contain his grin while hearing it played by people he loved to people he loved. Jihoon's voice singing words of love Soonyoung had written for him so long ago. Then they played _It Was You_ and the floor was speckled with people holding each other.

"I want to say congratulations to the bride and groom," Soonyoung said into the mic at the end of the set. Jihoon regained his breath right next to him and Soonyoung could feel him smiling at him. "I've never met kinder people. You deserve all the happiness in the world and so, so much more. I hope you never let each other go."

"To love," Jihoon said, looking right at Soonyoung, and the crowd lifted their glasses of champagne.

Seungkwan cried the whole night through and drunkenly told Jihoon it was nice to see him so in love. Jihoon had reddened since Wonwoo and Junhui were also there to hear him, but both of them had simply burst into laughter and tried to hug Jihoon into submission while Soonyoung sheepishly watched. It felt good and warm - the rolled up sleeves as he challenged Junhui to a dance battle, the buzz of champagne innocently clicking under his tongue, Jihoon getting his glasses stolen by someone's child.

Towards the end of the party all four of them sat outside the venue after being poured with love and compliments over their individual careers and felt the weight of their bond in the quiet of the night. Everything came rushing back to Soonyoung just from seeing Junhui's hair curling around his ears and Wonwoo's distant gaze. Every triumph, every hardship, every trifling discussion, every comforting touch and words. Everything was so familiar, so nostalgic, wrapped within the boundaries that merged then and now. What would they have been without each other? Soonyoung doesn't even want to think about it.

"It's been fun," Junhui said first, cradling his champagne glass in his hand. "I'm glad you guys invited us."

"I'm surprised we could avoid wedding crashers," Soonyoung commented offhandedly. "You guys are popular as fuck now."

"Don't act modest," Wonwoo said. "I'm sure they snuck pictures of all of us. They're dying for a reunion."

"People love us more than when we were active," Junhui chuckled and Jihoon looked down at his feet. 

Wonwoo tilted his head knowingly, like only he knew how to do. He was always so sharp. "You can tell us what's worrying you, Jihoon." 

Jihooned sighed, picking at invisible lint on his pants. He had been trying to avoid the conversation. "It's nothing. It _has_ been fun. And, well... I guess I don't want to ruin the mood. It's just that this feels so definitive," Jihoon eventually admitted. "So I just want to say that, although it was a short run, I'm so glad I met you. And even if we've outgrown each other, you'll always be so important to me," he shook his head. "I'm sorry. It's been a while since I've felt this happy."

Soonyoung stared at him without saying a word. Jihoon was gnawing at his bottom lip, wearing the same expression he had when Yuna had walked down the aisle. He looked agonized, torn between so much that he didn't know which side to pull on anymore. Wonwoo wrapped an arm around Jihoon's shoulders, pleased by the honesty of his words.

Junhui looked genuinely choked up. "Oh, Jihoonie. You were always so sensitive."

"You're the one crying, Jun," Wonwoo pointed out and Soonyoung felt their laughter curl up around him under the starry night.

Now Jihoon is the one crying all of a sudden and Soonyoung doesn't know what to do. This isn't like when he climbed into bed with him after running into Joshua, a hushed sob in the dead of night. It's like a dam breaking right in front of him, pouring and pouring as Jihoon tries to hold it in. It's unbearable.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Soonyoung asks, trying to get Jihoon's hands away from his face. "What did I say?"

Jihoon shakes his head. Soonyoung doesn't know if it's because he can't or won't speak, however it doesn't bode well for him either way. He tries to place a soothing hand on Jihoon's arm, but Jihoon simply crosses it over his face, his chest heaving. 

"I love you," Soonyoung says, realizing he hasn't much, all these years. "More than you know. I'm sorry."

"I know, I know. Let me go," Jihoon shakes his head, pushing Soonyoung away. "Don't look at me."

"Why?"

"Fuck you, that's why."

Soonyoung pinches his lips together in a grimace. His mother used to tell him that people fall in love with things they can't have all the time. Soonyoung knew he had to unlearn the feeling, pull it apart like a child pressing their nose to a store window on Christmas Eve has to go home and practice smiling at socks and pens. He has trained himself to be grateful for every small thing during the past six years, so this selfish rush stinging his mind is enough to send him reeling. Soonyoung stands up, grabs his sweatpants and puts them on. He paces around the room as Jihoon breathes in and out, shakily. 

"You think it was a mistake," Soonyoung says. It isn't a question, but Jihoon's face is still self-explanatory. "You're thinking you should have really gotten married and tossed me aside like I was never even in your life to begin with."

"You... you would never get it," Jihoon props himself up on one elbow, slowly sitting up. His eyes are puffy, but he looks angrier than anything else.

"Fucking enlighten me." 

"I gave everything up for the band, Soonyoung," Jihoon raises his voice and it's brisk and unsettling. "I had no safety net, I was just fucking gambling because I couldn't live with the thought of not trying. And then you come around and think you can ruin that because you fell in love with me? I gave you so many options, worked so hard just to see you happy. Tell me, what the fuck have you ever done for me?"

"You're so self-pitying it's irritating," Soonyoung says, stopping in the middle of the room to look straight at Jihoon. "You didn't do anything for me except teach me how to play guitar. Congratulations, you had the same impact on my life as a fucking intensive course. Only that instead of taking my money you tried to beat me down to the ground like I was an unfeeling cockroach. I don't count that as a great success at making me happy."

"You were the one moaning about Joshua all the damn time like I owed you anything. You were so pathetic that you slept around as if that was gonna make you feel better instead of making actual, genuine connections. That isn't my fault."

"So what, you eventually caved in? Your pity for me got the best of you?" Soonyoung asks, clenching his fists and trying to breathe calmly.

"I was in love with you for so fucking long. But I knew our situation. It was like I sacrificed so much for absolutely nothing because you were so demanding! You always have to get your way, don't you?"

Soonyoung tries not to get hung up over the fact that Jihoon has been in love with him for longer than he ever imagined. It's even painful just to think about it. "You're not the only one who's had to go through hard times. I tampered it down. I did."

"No, you fucking didn't!" Jihoon yells this time, groaning as he digs his fists into his eyes. "You have no fucking idea how you made me feel. Every day was like walking on a tightrope, trying to not tip the balance. Even if Jun and Wonwoo knew I didn't want to put them through that."

"You think I didn't feel the same way?"

"But you didn't have to be alone for it," Jihoon says and it makes Soonyoung want to crumble right there. Although he thought he had understood Jihoon six years ago, everything seems so flimsy now. His body feels numb all over. 

It's silent after. "Have we always been this miserable together?" Jihoon asks, finally.

"I think so," Soonyoung answers, genuinely. He flicks through the hotel's menu, not to read it, just to keep his eyes entertained. "You made me the most miserable bastard alive. But haven't we been worse when we're apart?"

Jihoon snorts quietly. "When we were all apart our careers flourished like sunflowers in the summer. Jun, and Wonwoo, and you. All of you looked so much freer, like I was taking three leashes with me when I stepped away," Soonyoung is about to protest, but Jihoon ignores him. "I don't know how this can end happily."

Soonyoung moves back to bed, sits right next to Jihoon. He looks so much smaller like this, so distant from that larger-than-life persona he metamorphoses into on stage. 

"Just try," Soonyoung isn't begging, but even the advice comes tumbling out of his lips like a prayer. "Just this once. And then - we have our whole lives to figure it out."

Jihoon stares at him for a moment. His eyes are still watery, trails of tears curving across his cheeks. Then, he's grabbing the back of Soonyoung's neck and hiding his face on Soonyoung's shoulder.

"I love you," Jihoon says. "I love you. I love you."

Soonyoung's heart nearly stops. He keeps perfectly still, his eyes comically wide, and he can feel the pale wave of shock rushing to his face. It feels like that night Jihoon told him he was in love with him, but also nothing like it at all.

"And whenever it hurt I thought of you. I was so stupid," Jihoon doesn't lift his head up. "But I deserved you, didn't I? I deserved to love you. And now I can’t even give you what you need."

Soonyoung can't think of the right thing to say, so he sings. Jihoon relaxes in his arms.

“ _That it was you… you in the brightest days, and you in the darkest nights…_ ”

"It was," Jihoon says. "It is."

Soonyoung is struck with that. " _That it was you…_ " he goes on. " _You my entire days and you my entire life._ "

“Don’t leave me. Okay?” Jihoon says and in that moment Soonyoung is just barely holding him together. “Even when I’m away and singing about someone else from so long ago. Even if that someone else was you,” Soonyoung kisses him. “Even when I’m making eyes at old ladies. Just… just leave me when I’m right here and you’ve had enough of me. Just do that for me.”

“That won’t happen,” Soonyoung tells him. _You don't have to do this_ , he wants to say instead. “I’ll love you even when your hearing goes and I have to sing for you. Even when no one understands what you’re trying to say because they can’t love as well as you. I know.”

“Stop making me want to cry,” Jihoon shakes his head and Soonyoung traces his jaw hesitantly. "You know, for the longest time I thought you wouldn't be able to forgive me. I guess that's what I wanted. I wanted you to hate me."

"Impossible," Soonyoung says.

"I thought: _How can he not see? The world will eat us whole if we even try this_. But you wouldn't listen and I just wanted you so badly."

"That's not true."

"Stop interrupting my wedding vows," Jihoon complains and Soonyoung smiles at that. "These rings are the icing on the cake. I don't know what we were thinking," he's staring at his finger intently, wiggling it in front of Soonyoung's face. "Would you even really want to spend your life with me?"

Before buying their rings they had visited the Seine and bought small chapbooks printed in pink and yellow from a street vendor. Jihoon had been sat on a bench, reading a story about a horrible beast spreading terror on a small sixteenth-century village, when Soonyoung returned with a couple of sandwiches he had bought. It was unusually sunny that day, and under the white light of the cold day Jihoon looked like a man closed in on himself, a quiet shadow of a person. Then his eyes caught Soonyoung and he perked up, and the sun hit his eyes until they were half-closed. Soonyoung loved him then, so he knelt down by the bench and, with both sandwiches in his hands, asked Jihoon to marry him.

"What kind of fucking drugs do they feed you here?" Jihoon had nearly shouted, too shocked to really do anything but laugh. His breath fogged up in the air.

"Shit, I don't know. Hey, hey, don't laugh. I know this isn't the Eiffel Tower," Soonyoung pressed on.

Jihoon considered whether to assume this was a joke, but his expression shifted when he saw Soonyoung wasn't getting up. "Will you give me your sandwich?"

Soonyoung did and Jihoon took one of the onion rings to place it on one of his fingers.

"I don't think it's gonna fit," he said while Soonyoung's incredulous face crumpled away into one of pure joy. "But I guess it'll do."

Soonyoung pinches Jihoon arm now, feeling love overwhelm him. "I've already spent my twenties with you. What are a few more decades?"

“Still. Forever is a long, long time," Jihoon points out.

They lie down, exhausted by every nerve rattling in their bodies. Soonyoung presses their foreheads together and waits for their breathing to synchronize.

"Are you scared about leaving?"

"Should I not be? In a couple of days you'll return to your home and I'll return to mine. We won't see each other for so long again."

"What do you mean?" Soonyoung frowns and tries to delay it. Just a bit longer. He traces Jihoon's arm, thumbs the inside of his wrist. He tries to remember which points leads where, wills himself to memorize the mole under Jihoon's eye and the dimples alongside his smile creases. He tries to ignore the redness in Jihoon's eyes, how there isn't any mascara to blame anymore, how Jihoon's gotten so worringly pale over the years.

"We can't stay here forever. Remember what I said on Seokmin's wedding night? We outgrew each other. Even if this feeling stays here forever I can't possibly keep feeding it in hopes it will be satisfied," Jihoon keeps trying to slither away, like he can't bear touching Soonyoung. "I don't want you to think that I was lying at any point, because I wasn't. I was just hoping it would stick. That you would find someone and get bored of me, that when I came to you that night at the motel and left you feeling miserable you'd know that I'm not good for you." 

"You're always awfully candid when we're in bed," Soonyoung remarks, smiling in spite of everything. He wants Jihoon to stop talking, to stop making him hurt like he's a teenager again.

"I didn't know what I was supposed to do. I let you drug yourself. Even when I was trying to get you to stop, I knew I was part of the reason and instead of stepping away-"

"You're not my babysitter," Soonyoung snaps, sitting up straight in bed. He can't have this talk lying down, with Jihoon's face right next to his. "You wanted this, Jihoon. Just as much as I did. Stop trying to be the better person here. We aren't in a band anymore, I don't need to be concerned about letting everyone down. I'm here now, resting, and I need you here just as much as you need me."

Jihoon snorts. "That's bullshit. I need you more than you could ever need me. Look at you, Soonyoung - you're one of the best known musicians in the country, you have two beautiful homes, you made it this far without once giving me a call. I fucking ruined that again. It's like I can't help myself," Jihoon pulls at the waist of Soonyoung's pants. "Let me fix it."

Soonyoung doesn't realize what Jihoon's doing until his mouth is on Soonyoung's dick, slow and warm. Soonyoung blinks down at him, strokes the back of his hair. He knows he won't be able to get fully hard, not when he's so tired and hurt. Jihoon probably knows this too, but he still tries to get Soonyoung's attention by flicking his tongue and sucking hard, a spine-tingling motion that works to a certain degree. It makes Soonyoung loathe himself even more. He yanks at Jihoon's hair without using too much force, waits until Jihoon is off him completely to let go.

"C'mon, Soonyoung. Let me make you feel good one last time," Jihoon requests. "I owe you that."

"Okay," Soonyoung concedes. "Come up here, then."

Jihoon sits up in front of Soonyoung and lets him kiss him. Not the most appealing breath, but Soonyoung can handle it. In fact, he doesn't stop doing it until Jihoon is pratically gasping and trying to take a gulp of air, wiping the saliva on the sheets and musing at the bit of blood that catches onto the white linen. 

"That was a bit much," Jihoon eventually says.

"You tried to give me a blowjob out of nowhere."

Jihoon tries not to look too dejected. "I was trying to-"

"What part of this isn't about sex did you not understand?" Soonyoung asks. "Jesus, your lip is bleeding. C'mere."

Jihoon scoots closer as Soonyoung unfolds the unfinished pack of sugar next to his coffee cup on the bedside table. Soonyoung dabs the grains onto Jihoon lower lip, gives a fond warning when Jihoon licks it clean.

"I won't do that again," Jihoon says. "Just goes to show I have no idea what I'm doing."

"You don't get it," Soonyoung pours the rest of the sugar into his mouth and throws away the packet. "I don't think any man in normal circumstances would say no to that. But you're breaking up with me."

Jihoon ruffles his hair a bit, frustrated with himself. "Yeah, well. I was trying to be nice about it. Instead, you nearly bit my tongue off."

"I'm sorry about that," Soonyoung says, standing up. "I don't accept handouts, though."

Jihoon curses under his breath. "Dick"

"Asshole."

"We're already fighting like an old married couple," Jihoon says. "That's something."

"It's not funny, Jihoon. Don't deflect."

Jihoon shakes his head, grabs his clothes from the chair and stomps towards the bathroom. Soonyoung listens to the shower running, to Jihoon's voice mingling with the sound of running water. He wonders if he does that to calm down. 

Soonyoung waits until Jihoon gets out so he can step into the bathroom, ignoring how Jihoon passes right by him without a single glance. He washes his body for too long, looking at himself in the mirror as his soap-coated fingers dig into his scalp. He still looks good - Soonyoung's never been shy about his looks. But as always there's still that lingering self-doubt, something that's been crawling inside him since middle school, that points out his tired eyes and slightly protuding stomach. Would Jihoon like him better if he had wide, beautiful eyes like Joshua? He groans in frustration and furiously scubs his body instead of singing. It doesn't really help.

He hates this part of him, the part that had once asked Junhui if he was unlovable just to hear someone say no. The part that catches Jihoon looking at him and feels the need to hide everything, to have his body turn in on itself and magically disappear. The part that his mother used to say made him look ten years older.

"I'm sorry," Jihoon says, as if he's been practicing it for the past fifteen minutes. He's already wearing his pajamas - they're oversized and the blue silk makes him look like he's drowned in moonlight. "I forced myself on you. That was shitty of me to do."

"It's not that," Soonyoung says. His skin is still tingling from the hot water. "I know what you're trying to do."

Jihoon rolls his eyes. "Not everything I do is some manipulative move."

Soonyoung opens his mouth to say something before deciding against it. Instead, he moves closer and climbs on top of Jihoon, pushes him against the headboard. Jihoon gives himself up so easily, so openly. It makes Soonyoung think that this is really it.

He kisses Jihoon, bites his jaw, drags his lips down Jihoon's neck. Jihoon doesn't say anything, but it's as if he's trying to communicate through his eyes that he wants something. _Let me fix it_. Soonyoung sighs, peppers kisses across Jihoon's nose and cheeks. When Jihoon finally tries to interject Soonyoung shuts him up swiftly. Their mouths are insistent against each other, but each kiss is softer, barely there. Finally, Soonyoung presses his mouth to Jihoon's forehead and rolls to his side of the bed.

Jihoon closes his eyes, hides his face beneath his palms. He looks miserable. Soonyoung reaches over to Jihoon's bedside table and grabs his glasses case. He opens it, cleans the lenses with the smooth cloth and hands them over to Jihoon.

"You're hurting your eyes."

"Shut up," Jihoon says, but takes the glasses anyway. He adjusts them on the bridge of his nose. "Don't be nice to me."

"Let me guess. I'm making it harder?"

Jihoon grimaces. "You're so difficult to deal with."

"Oh, you love me," Soonyoung boasts, but he can feel the blow coming. "You married me."

"I did," Jihoon admits. "I would again."

Soonyoung lies down and Jihoon follows suit after a while. They turn the lights off and Jihoon sets his glasses back on his case. It feels borderline absurd to have given him the glasses now. The desire to be seen by Jihoon had spoken louder once again, even though he could barely look at Soonyoung.

"It's very in character for us to end our wedding night like this," Soonyoung comments, both of his hands under his head as he tries to make out specks of dust in the dark. "Don't you think?"

"You're always the one trying to leave," Jihoon points out.

Soonyoung shrugs. "You push me away, I'm not going to push you back. I can feel you wanting me to leave."

"That's not-"

"Spare me."

The silence makes Soonyoung feel so alone. It's almost as if Jihoon is a cold body lying next to him and Soonyoung is stuck, incapable of moving a limb to get out of bed.

"Please don't... Don't leave me again," Soonyoung requests, quietly. "I know it's easy. It's easier to hate yourself than to love someone else. But, listen- I led other people on and let them fall in love with me, too. I left them without a second thought. I'm just as bad as you are." 

"Soonyoung..."

"So don't think... don't think I don't know how you feel. Like you're rotten work- Don't look at me like that. That's all in the past, Jihoonie. Whenever I see you I can't see anything else and it scares me," Soonyoung comforts himself by turning his ring on his finger. "Even though you said you deserved to love me... even then. You couldn't bring yourself to do anything but watch from afar."

"Because it's not the same. Those were just one-night-stands to you. I've known you since we were eighteen, Soonyoung. You were my first kiss. And I hurt you too much, just like I knew I would if I didn't just keep it together. I wish I could have been better."

Soonyoung turns on the light again, startling Jihoon. "Look at me. Do you think I'm clinging on to those times you hurt me because you wanted what was best for us? I know why you did it, even though it didn't seem like it. I was just so hurt. But I can't keep living in the past, Jihoon. How do you think I live my days without my mother? How do you think I feel when I fly back home and see her face on a tombstone, year after year, knowing i could have done so much more for her? I can't stand it. But, still, I decide to live in the present. I carry her in my heart every day and move on as best as I can. And, yeah, sometimes memories do come up, like a punch to the gut, but I try to cling to the happy ones," Jihoon hasn't stopped looking at him since he started talking, so many emotions running through his face that Soonyoung can't pinpoint a single one.

He continues. "When I see you, I see us on stage, singing with just one mic. I see you bringing me coffee, you scolding Junhui for being sloppy on the drums while Wonwoo laughs, us trying to bake Julia's recipes. I see us trying to compose the next _American Pie_ and you holding my hand while you fall asleep. I don't even know what I'm saying anymore, just- I love you. And I want my future to be with you. Even if it's a long, long time. Hell, _because_ it's a long, long time."

Jihoon stares at him, dumbfounded.

"Say something, damnit. I just laid my heart out to you."

Instead of answering, Jihoon sets the pile of sheets and blankets aside and puts on his slippers. He walks up to the balcony door, looks behind to tilt his head in a motion for Soonyoung to follow him. Soonyoung puts a hoodie over his head and trails behind him. Jihoon's back is straight and his steps nearly mechanical, and in the cold air of the hotel terrace he looks like a soul floating above the city. Soonyoung wraps his arms around Jihoon's shoulders and Jihoon shifts, his hair pressing against Soonyoung’s jaw like tentative fingertips. The night is cold, sterile like a dried-out piece of land, and above them only linger a few specks of residual light in the dark. Soonyoung’s exhales draw mismatched shapes of disintegrating clouds in front of him and he focuses on that instead. 

“Do you want to go back?” Jihoon asks, pulling one of the strings on Soonyoung’s hoodie over his shoulder and twirling it in his fingers.

“No.”

“It’s really cold.”

Soonyoung tightens his hold on him. “I’m good.”

Jihoon shakes his head, the back of his head digging into Soonyoung’s sternum. "I wanted to see the world. For a bit. Sometimes it feels like I get tangled in you and I can't find my way out."

The street lamps hover above people's heads like stationary fireflies, drunken laughter puncturing the innocence of the night. Soonyoung lets his forehead rest on Jihoon's temple and closes his eyes.

"I just can't stop thinking about it," Jihoon admits, softly. "Every single time I hurt you. The expressions you would make. I feel so bad."

"I don't want to hear about it anymore," Soonyoung says. "Do you remember this one interview where the guy asked you how you dealt with mistakes on stage? You turned to him and said _I never make any fucking mistakes, so jot that down_ ," Jihoon chortles at the memory, the bruised colour of his undereye circles and the soft curl of his hair contrasting terribly with his glittery eyelids and gelled back style of those days. Jihoon used to own these leather gloves that he took off when he wanted to be over with interviews and Soonyoung remembers thinking it should be a crime to hide those hands at any given time. "You nailed it right on the head. Don't apologize forever or, instead of growing from shit like that, you'll just get stuck. 'Sides, if I recalled correctly, you were the one who told me I should arrange my priorities. That's easy: you and music. I don't care about anything else. So why is it so hard for you to let go of the past?"

Jihoon hesitates before he turns around to look up at Soonyoung. He's shivering now that he doesn't have the warmth of Soonyoung's chest against his back, so Soonyoung pulls him close again and Jihoon clings to him.

"Don't like to be held my ass," Soonyoung quips and Jihoon laughs, his cheek right against his chest. 

"Just if it's you," Jihoon says. "Here, where no one knows us. Then I like it."

"Then let's stay here, in this freezing ass cold. I don't care."

Jihoon chuckles, but bunches up the back of Soonyoung's sweater in his hands, nervously. "We'll have to leave, eventually. Don't forget that."

"I don't care where you are or how long it takes. I'll wait for you. Okay?" 

Jihoon stays quiet for another minute. Then he pushes himself away slightly, resting his hands on Soonyoung's shoulders.

"Listen, Soonyoung, when you left... I hate to admit it but you did what I always knew you could do. When I sang your song at Seokmin's wedding I could feel everything so clearly. You've grown into your sound so well," Jihoon says. "And I was jealous. You looked so happy. I tried to understand how can you be jealous of the happiness of someone who you've been trying to make happy all your life. But I wanted you to be happy next to me. And that's why..." Jihoon looks at his ring regretfully. "You understand, right?"

"I'm trying to," Soonyoung says, attempting to make his heart make sense of what his mind is processing. Sorry won't mend anything now, but Soonyoung had been so hopeful. He had wanted to prove to himself that he was wrong six years ago, that love would thrive in spite of everything painful and blue swimming in his head. "I'm not asking you to stay. Not right now, even though I want to so badly," he admits, covering Jihoon's hand. "But I meant it, you know? Even if we have to hide it, I... I want to be here with you. Forever. If you let me."

Jihoon sighs, closes his eyes as he catches Soonyoung's crumpled expression. "Yeah. Shit. I wish life could be only this."

Soonyoung lets Jihoon rest his head on his shoulder as they sway slightly, a lulling ebb and flow that seems so out of place between the red-lit cafés below and the apathetic moon above. There's music filtering through the wind and the lead pipes. People fall in love with things they can't have all the time, Soonyoung thinks as Jihoon's cheek heals his heart just by being pressed against him. Maybe this is all they are, he realizes - two bodies drawing mismatched melodies out of each other. Doomed to be spinning in a moment in time.

The next day they'll go to the Seine again and throw their rings into the flowing water. The day after that they'll get into a plane and pretend to fall asleep with their heads bumping, trying to get through the journey without speaking. Jihoon will leave in a cab after hugging Soonyoung tightly, but briefly. Soonyoung will stay around for a few days, get bored, go back to Paris. Jihoon will call him this time - "I wanted to know if you could come to my wedding?" - and it will be a real wedding with fancy clothes and a promise under God's eye and children running around while adults lay their heads on each other's shoulders, knowing they won't have to part any time soon. 

When Soonyoung wakes up that morning, though, Jihoon is wearing his glasses. He thumbs through his journal, lazily, like he isn't sure what he's searching for. It's still dark outside, a consequence of the weepy weather that stubbornly leaves ponds on the street for them to avoid in the morning, but the flimsiest hint of light bathes Jihoon's profile until his outline is softened by a deep indigo. He looks beautiful.

"Wh't you doin'?" Soonyoung asks, muffled by his pillow. His mouth feels cottony and warm.

"Felt inspired," Jihoon answers without looking up.

Soonyoung smiles. "'Cause of me?"

Jihoon hums. Soonyoung seizes Jihoon's hand, the latter refraining from any complaints as Soonyoung turns it over and plants butterfly kisses from Jihoon's pulse point to his palm. Maybe they won't have to do all of those things. Maybe Paris will be kind to them and they'll be so tired that they'll sleep until their flight is long gone. Soonyoung toys with Jihoon's fingers, presses his mouth to each knuckle. He can feel Jihoon shiver, the slight tremble of his fingers contrasting with his focused expression. Jihoon's wedding band feels smooth under his lips. As Soonyoung pulls back he can see the obvious flush spreading from Jihoon's ears down to his chest and makes a mental note of it for future occasions.

"What's it called?" Soonyoung asks, leaning against Jihoon's arm to peer at the pages. Jihoon's ugly handwriting only makes him feel fonder, and Soonyoung is reminded of them studying together in college: Soonyoung's coffee cup cooling off as Jihoon set down his notebooks; the rain tapping against the window like it is now; the hard, wooden chairs they tried to make themselves comfortable on and the scraping of pencil tips on paper. He remembers how Jihoon used to write song ideas on the corner of his class notes and how he would look up slyly at Soonyoung when he thought he wasn't looking. Maybe there was something there already, tucked between their silence as they walked towards Jihoon's apartment, their arms brushing ever so casually. Maybe this is all they ever were.

As Soonyoung returns back from there and becomes aware of the warm bed they're in, of the empty coffee mug sitting on the bedside table, of the shadows of the room dancing around them like twirling lovers, he thinks that perhaps life can be only this.

Jihoon smiles down at him. 

" _Home_. Do you want to hear it?"

Soonyoung lets him go, leans back and listens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhh what can i even say? thank you so much for reading this. everyone who has commented and liked this fic was so kind and it made me really happy to see the positive feedback it had <33  
> of course thank you to choco and wafa again, and alice for being so sweet. sometimes i feel like what i wrote wasn't enough, but i'm really proud that i put it out there, so thank you for giving it a chance. is this too many thank yous? anyways, i'm glad we could be on this journey together.  
> here are the songs that gave the title to each chapter if anyone's interested:  
> from afar - vance joy; we might be dead by tomorrow - soko; one day - kodaline; novels - rusty clanton.  
> until some other time!


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